Fighter
by Rain on your Back
Summary: "Life's but a walking shadow  ...  a tale / Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, / Signifying nothing..." - Macbeth, Acte V Scene 5. Because, in the end, she couldn't win, but had the power to make sure he couldn't, either.
1. Departure

**Chapter One:** Departure

**Author:** Rain on your Back

**Disclaimer:** Hiroyuki Takei owns Shaman King. I just toy with his characters.

**Note:** Sooo... This is a project I've been working on for some months now... And I still don't really know how it'll actually work - am already sinking into my unfinished works, and I keep creating more, am so stupid sometimes. But, whatever happens, I'd really like to hear your opinion, be it good or bad. Since it's only a prologue, the real settings of the story aren't here yet... Well... I'll stop my rambling here.

Oh, the universe is the manga's, but you'll see that I modificated it a bit^^

* * *

><p><em>"This isn't happening. Not possible. It can't… Not the first time!"<em>

_The positive test fell on the floor and broke. She entered into a rage and crushed it under her foot, not caring when it jabbed into her skin. She tripped on the shards and fell to the ground, where she curled into a tiny ball, her hands covering her ears. That wasn't happening. Not. Happening._

_Not to her. Not with him._

_Why had she been so stupid?_

* * *

><p>This story begins the night of the new moon, without any light falling from the sky. The island was eerily calm and no one could have guessed that the finale was only days away. Most of the mansions were empty now, as their shamans had fought and died against one of the two finalist groups. The streets sounded hollow and no laughter escaped the last open restaurant.<p>

The finalists had most of their group intact, since the leaders retired each group which had to fight the other, until there was none to fight with. Now it was only he, the Destroyer, and she, the Iron Maiden. Because, in the end, Yoh was beaten by his brother, and the Ren had been forced to abandon against the holy Maiden and her lieutenants. But the finale would never happen. She had made sure of this. She had vowed to herself that if what she feared happened, she would ensure her X-Laws' safety.

Suddenly the bell rung. It was midnight.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Careful not to make a sound, the frail girl listened to the night, trying to sense if anyone was awake on the ship. When the teenager was reassured that she was the sole being not asleep, she shifted her weight on her elbows and removed the white sheets of her bed. Her feet touched the cold floor and she rose, gently brushing her bangs off her face. She was wearing the clothes she usually wore in the Iron Maiden – not for long. Still walking cautiously, she slipped out of her bedroom and into the large corridor. The light was always on in case of an emergency, and that night she was glad, because every noise made her jump, and she couldn't afford getting caught. She just hoped no one would wake up and see her.

Still as quiet as she could, she pushed a door lightly and peeked inside. Her blond lieutenant was peacefully snoring, his glasses lying abandoned on the nightstand and his arms tightly secured around the waist of the woman he loved. The albinos leaned against the doorway. They looked so blissful… She felt a pang of jealousy in her chest, but pushed it away. Tomorrow they would hate her. She shook her head. No need to think about what would happen to them. They would be fine. The young girl sighed softly and left, still silent.

She entered the next room – said woman's – and wasted no time before going to the closet, fumbling through clothes until she found what she was searching for: a pair of short black trousers, laced matching boots and a long and white mantle. Typically the type of clothing she did not have. Without waiting, she put them on, having her long-sleeved shirt to complete the outfit. Then she looked at herself. With these on, she did not look like the Iron Maiden. The hood hid her hair and, engulfed as she was, no one would ever guess who she was.

Ever so calmly, she walked out of the room and prepared to exit the boat when she heard voices. Her heart went wild and she hurried to the safety button, which permitted to extinguish all lights (Marco's idea. Said if the emergency went out of control, it would help them escape). Instantly, darkness fell around her. The Iron Maiden stopped breathing and waited.

The voices came closer. She distinguished Kevin's and Hans'. The two men were obviously drunk and searched for the button. When she could hear their steps, she moved as carefully as she could, passing centimeters away from them, and ran silently in the hallways. The light was back on when she stepped on the deck. They couldn't stop her now. The Iron Maiden left the ship, stepping on the footbridge that linked the ship to the island. When her boots touched the solid ground, they emitted a very light sound. Steeling herself, the girl looked back.

They'd be alright. What she had done guaranteed them safety. _He_ had promised to leave them be. And she believed _him_– he was maybe evil, but he always kept his word. That wasn't why she was hurt. What hurt was that to protect them, she had to leave them behind and never look back. She had to disappear for them to stay alive. That burnt her insides, making her want to throw up – or better, to run back into Marco's room and tell him the whole story. But she couldn't, she knew. The girl sighed.

Then Jeanne resumed walking away, Shamash floating above her right shoulder, and vapored into the depths of the night.

* * *

><p>Elsewhere on the island, someone sighed as well, his fire mirroring the girl disappearing into the shadows. He knew very well that what happened between them was the reason of her departure. He had forced her into this. And he shouldn't be so bothered by it.<p>

But he was.

He'd keep his word.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Jeanne<span>:** ... Why meeee? Why do I feel like something awful is going to happen to me?

**Rain:** Because, in your point of view, something will. But don't worry, you'll be fine in the end. Or not. Not decided on that yet.

**Jeanne:** Wha-WHAT?

**Marco:** Did you really have to show what I was doing?

**Rain:** Of course! That's part of the why she left! Stupid blondie %)

**Marco: **Stupid what? ... MICHAEL!

**Rain:** *runs away*


	2. Shattered Lives

**Chapter one: Shattered lives  
>Author:<strong> Rain**  
><strong>**Disclaimer:** Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei. I am not making money with this story, nor do I claim any character, location, idea presented into the manga.

Sorry for the long wait… This is –sort of– the second prologue of this fic. Well, it was not meant to be, but if the first is more of a real prologue, this one is kind of the 'setting' of this story. Here you will finally know with whom, how and when this story will work – and you'll have beginnings of explanations also… Well… Here it is…

Oh, and before I forget, there's a reason as to why I kept normal calendar/places names. First, it's way easier for me, and for you, and second, most of the characters were bron before Hao was even Shaman King, so there is a high possibility that they would continue using them. %)

Fighter 01:  
><span>Shattered Lives<span>

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. December. The ninteenth. 15:56<br>Year 2000**

"_Don't hurt them. That's all I ask.  
>- A bargain, then?"<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October. The ninth. 20:27<br>****Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King**

A blonde and tall woman was walking down the corridor, unconsciously counting the wounded and dead. All the ones who were there would be healed or revived, but she knew that numerous others had been purely destroyed on the battlefield – not that, at the instant, she really cared (well, of course she cared, but she had other issues at the time). Her head turned at every bed as she tried to find the one she was searching for. She nearly bumped into a medic along the way, and then tried to stay aware of her surroundings. Suddenly she found the one she was searching for. "Ah, Jareth. Here, let me take care of this – just search the other Archangels, and tell them to meet me the sooner the better in the reunion room. Oh, and when you're finished, go find the princess. We need every help we'll find this time."

The brown-haired lieutenant departed with a nod and Meene sat near John. His eyes were bandaged heavily, but no harm had been done, she guessed. "Here, John, it's me. Was he taking off or putting on?  
>- Taking off. It's only temporary, they say.<br>- Okay."

Slowly, she took it off, and stopped the tall man from rubbing his eyes by tapping on his hand, gently. He knew it would do no good. All he had to do was wait, and vision would slowly come back. Rubbing would only irritate. "There is a meeting," she said.  
>"I know, I heard you. My eyes may be weakened, but my ears are perfectly fine, thank you."<p>

She smiled, if only lightly, and stood. "You're smiling, right?" Surprised, she blinked. "You see me? Jareth is really a good healer then…  
>- Nah, I just knew you'd smile. I don't need eyes for that."<p>

Without saying anything, she began to depart, her hand on the arm of her friend to help him. John followed, as silent as she was. After all, they both knew what took place. The former X-II was only reminding her that if she wanted, he was there. But he also knew she'd never want him. Not with the issue they had with their leader. He sighed as they walked through the hospital wing of the QG and the nursing rooms, empty at this hour. At last, they entered the reunion room, and sat at their places. All the former X-Laws were present. After greeting them, Venstar began, quietly: "I see none of us is wounded, except John.  
>- It was purely my fault. One of our blinding grenades didn't explode correctly, and I made a mistake. They didn't touch me, as usual."<p>

As usual… At first, they did not notice. Then, among the years, they were obliged to acknowledge it. They could be as bold as they wanted, no follower of the Shaman King – since Hao, by all rights, was so - ever harmed them. Pure luck couldn't be enough. At the same time, Marco had disappeared during an attack, and they thought they had been wrong – but everything remained the same. No one was ever touched by any attack. Which made Marco's situation ten times worse. Did he talk? Knowing the rockhead, he'd never tell anything. And if he didn't, no one did really know how he was. All they knew was that, his localizer still worked, indicating Hao's castle. Always. It never moved. Meene gulped silently as she asked. "Marco?  
>- No movement," replied sadly Lucky. "Sorry.<br>- Don't be. Lyserg, how many children have been rescued, all in all?"

The green head looked at her. He was the one in charge of the section of rescue, who had been the one to attack this time. One of the most important orphanages under Hao's control had been found, and they went there to try and save them from the evil influence. But… "Thirty-three," he muttered.  
>"Pardon?<br>- Thirthy-three children were saved from Byrth," he repeated, louder this time. "I talked with the princess and the healers. We have over five hundreds lost, almost as many wounded and a hundred and two dead. They will need time to heal them all, Meene. The healers' fouryoku are limited, and the princess needs to revive the dead first.  
>- I know. Well, the ones of us who can heal will go and help. The others keep their ordinary schedules. Kevin, I'll go and help you as soon as I can with the children.<br>- No need to," reassured the joker. "Go and see 'Tony. He needs you more than we do, without his father here."

The blond woman nodded slowly, and smiled. "Thank you. And, everyone, rest soon. We don't need one of us dying from exhaustion. "

All acquiesced and left.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. November. The thirtieth. 20:27<br>Year 2000**

"_Contestants, please listen to our announcement. Contestants, please listen to our announcement. As the organizers of the tournament, we neutrally watched every battle, and eventually every battle came to end. Now only these shamans, among the strongest and the wisest, remain: Group X-ONE, Lyserg Diethel. Group X-ONE, Marco Maxwell. Group X-ONE, Iron Maiden Jeanne. Group HOSHIGUMI, Opachô. Group HOSHIGUMI, Luchist Lasso. Group HOSHIGUMI, Hao Asakura. These contestants have fought and proved themselves to be the best Shamans. The finale will soon take place, but we decided to leave the finalists alone for a whole month. May they use this time to rest and train. The finale will take place at nine a.m., on the first Monday of January. Thank you for listening."_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October. The ninth. 19:49<br>****Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King**

Light was falling down through the trees and onto the fresh snow that fell sooner that day. Deep into the lands of the wolves, no sound could be heard so late in the evening. The natural hunters were now up and searching for preys, were they marmots, deer or squirrels. The above temperature couldn't be higher than one or two Celsius. The young woman activated the door and exited what had become her house years ago, her light weight making the snow crack under her feet.

It was a ritual she did every evening now - exept when the sun did not rise, in the deepest parts of winter, and when it did not fall, in summer - but she did whenever she could, and sometimes waited until morning. She came out when every predator could find her, just to see the fading light of the sun of Russia, and try to find the Nothern Lights. Every night, she waited for the aurora borealis, as if the lights could grant her wish. Slowly, night fell. Another day was over. Thank God.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. December. The eighteenth. 00:01<br>Year 2000**

"_That is for sure something you need to see someday. It's way better than watching the stars, which is already wonderful when you're out of the town. But the Northern Lights… These are sacred."_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October. The ninth. 21:03<br>****Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King**

Marco didn't know exactly how many hours had passed when he slept. Into the cells of the huge castle, it was hard to determine whether it was night or day, let alone to know what hour it was. He stretched his longs arms, and experienced again the feeling of something missing. Of course, they had taken his gun away before he first went there, but he kept forgetting.

Without the familiar presence of the weapon, he felt weakened. Anyone could do anything to him – and yet he was never harmed, by any of the gards. They gave him food and water, they let him sleep when he wanted to, and they never tried to make him say anything about the others. That bothered him. Why? Didn't they care? He couldn't help but feel something was off. "Good to see you again, Marco. How are we this morning?"

His head jerked up to acknowledge the presence of Luchist. The old priest seemed as healthy as ever, even if he was much older now. Not wanting to please him, the blond man didn't answer and kept staring at his former mentor. "My my, still as stubborn as ever. Who are you pretending for? I won't mock you, you know. Pride leads to only one thing, defeat. I thought you discovered this.  
>- We have <strong>not<strong> lost.  
>- You didn't. You had to give up because your group was not allowed to enter the ring without its third member, who wasn't there.<br>- She wasn't there because **you** did something to her. It wasn't her fault.  
>- Of course not," said the priest with an irony that angered Marco. "So it's not pride. Then… Do you think she's somehow watching over you?"<p>

Irony, thought the younger man, not wanting to answer. They had shared everything years and years ago, but now only one topic concerned them both. And that topic was of the girl who disappeared and was presumed dead. Irony. Yet, Luchist was still able to know, only by listening and watching him, what he felt or thought. Damn that priest. "Why am I treated like this?"

Luchist looked almost surprised, but answered noneless – carefully, almost as if he feared what he could say. "Orders. Hao-sama seems to have taken a liking into you angels.  
>- Liking? I certainly hope you're joking.<br>- Oh, not because of you, you rockhead," smiled quietly the older. "Our lord told me about a bargain, a long time ago.  
>- Bargain? With whom?"<p>

The priest didn't answer. He just chuckled. "Rockhead.  
>- Stop calling me names! Why don't you just say what you have to say?<br>- If she was there, she'd surely be proud of you. You really learned self-control while you were in the wild, poor boy. My, maybe she'd even forgive you now, if Hao-sama allowed…" As he said these words, the priest frowned. He had been too reckless. Marco could be dumb, but he heard the words, and a hope that he didn't feel for years washed through him. "Jeanne is alive ?"

Luchist didn't answer. He almost looked angry at himself from letting this slip. Marco stood, his hands balling into fists. When the silence remained, he launched himself at the bars, trying to destroy the barrier between them. "ANSWER ME, LUCHIST! Is. She. ALIVE!"

The old priest blinked, and his smirk reappeared. "No one ever said she was dead.  
>- We all believed so! Don't tell me Hao didn't do anything to her!<br>- Why? Don't you think that she just fled? After all, she never asked for any of this. Fights, blood, death, she did all she could to _please _you, and yet you never even _thanked _her. Maybe she finally understood that you would never see her as something else than a mere _mean_ to achieve your goals. Your precious saint ran away.  
>- I don't believe you." Marco was desperately trying to calm down. "She would have told us if she didn't agree to our fight!<br>- You think so? You think that this orphan, raised thinking she was a saint sent by God with a sacred mission on this earth, was totally alright with watching the others die? Watching _you_ die? If you had been in her place, how would you have felt if that "God" who 'sent' you on earth didn't give you the power to defeat evil after all? She wasn't delusional. She knew she couldn't fight Hao-sama and win. And if she still tried, it was all because of you. Because she was scared, no, frightened, by the idea of you throwing her away if she didn't want to fight. And she finally fled before you could hurt her – still with the same ideal, saving you and only _you._  
>- … I still don't believe you. Luchist…" The voice of the blond man seemed less sure, almost fragile when he spoke again. "Did Hao do something to her? Let me just know that."<p>

Said Luchist seemed thoughtful for a moment. "He didn't bring any harm to her, that's all I can say.  
>- So he did do something?"<p>

But the priest had finally decided to leave. He stood, his eyes lingering on his former student, and left the dungeon, leaving the blonde man alone to shout at him to come back.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. December. The twenty-sixth. 13:20<br>Year 2000**

"_No – please no. You don't have to do that. Hao listen – "_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October. The ninth. 20:01<br>****Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King**

When she got back to the house, she went right to the girl sitting in the corner. The brown-haired child was patiently putting each toy she had into a precise order, as if to grow a sort of maze, before trashing it and building it again, under the hawk eyes of a ghost, a girl who didn't seem to be older than eighteen. The oldest smiled sadly. "Time to eat, Hane. Come with me."

Of course, Hane didn't reply. In the end, the woman, helped by the ghost, had to take her by the hand and lead her to the kitchen. Minuts later, Han was sitting on her chair, not moving nor touching her plate. The young woman took the fork and fed her herself, until the kid clamped her mouth shut. "Here, here Hane. We're almost finished. Then you can go back and play.  
>- Hane tired. Hane wants to sleep. Rya sleeps with Hane too."<p>

Rya – the ghost – looked at the young woman, waiting for her consent. Defeated, the pale girl nodded and put the fork down.

- Okay, darling. We're going to bed."

Giving up on the idea of having her finish her dish, the albino carefully took her ten years old daughter in her arms, cradling her gently before tucking her into her little bed, while Rya lied on her side. Gently passing a hand on the forehead of the child, Jeanne sighed before sinking to the floor.

The Iron Maiden had long passed the brink of adulthood and motherhood. Just not on the right order.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. December. The fifth. 10:37<br>Year 2000**

"_You won't answer? You won't acknowledge me?"_

_She did not answer._

_"Little girl."  
><em>_Silence.  
><em>_"Jill-in-a-box."  
><em>_No answer.  
><em>_"Jilly."  
><em>_Silence.  
><em>_"Maiden-chan." Silence still.__  
><em>_"Jeannie.  
><em>_- Can't you just leave me alone?"_

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October. The ninth. 23:49<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King**

The Shaman King was resting. This night had been rough for the two sides, he knew, but that didn't stop him from being upset. The bargain he still respected was bothering him to no end, as he couldn't touch any of the so-called Archangels, who were the keys to the defeat or victory of the rebels. Of course, he had their leader locked up, but that didn't stop any of them. Marco was definitely not the sole rockhead of the X-Laws.

It wouldn't be so much a problem – he'd only need to protect his city and leave them alone in the wild – if he had full powers. The real powers of the Shaman King, which should be his by now. After all, he had won fair and square, right?

But, of course – because he couldn't seem to reach his goal – something had turned wrong. The Great Spirits, after hundreds – thousands – years of being left on their own, had finally chosen to secure their use, and told so the now King Hao. He, as the winner of the tournament was not immediately given the full powers. The numerous voices of the Spirits told him that he would have to live, live his life until he died of age. He would also be granted the powers if one killed him – on one condition: he shall not want to die. Suicide or wanted murder would stop him from gaining what he wanted. He was reduced to a simple shaman, obliged to wait and wait until – argh. No need to ramble too much on this.

As his thoughts swirled and drifted too far away for his liking, he dragged his hand into the lava basin, feeling and enjoying the heat of the contact. This was the best way to relax after such a fight. Stay alone. Think about it all. But he was way too soon interrupted by a knock on the door. "Do come in," he ordered.

A pale priest entered. A student of Rackist, for sure. Tall, thin, he looked like he would break at the first gush of wind, but a sheer force emanated from his body. His pale -almost white - hair was also a reminder that Rackist was not over his betrayal and would surely never be, even if he was rational enough to know what he did was the best for him at the time. Seeing the boy tremble under his piercing stare, he nodded absently, allowing him to speak. "Lady Kanna found her.  
>- What?" Even if his voice stayed even, the Shaman King was interested. He rose from his sitting position and came closer to the blond boy. "Pray tell, then.<br>- W-Well, the Lady said: 'I found her, Lord Hao. Just look at the records. This is the hugest fouryoku manifestation in years, if not counting the princess that we know is hidden in some Iron QG. Even if I am wrong about the identity of this shaman, we cannot decently leave him or her in the wild. There are also traces of someone with that shaman, way weaker. A child, maybe.' She also told me she consulted Rackist before sending me – he confirmed.  
>- Where?<br>- Siberia. Near the Baikal Lake. Ashcroft has the exact location, that's why Lady Kanna sent him along. There."

The young boy held out a golden lighter, receptacle of said spirit. Hao took it, and dismissed the younger absentmindedly. "Oh, wait." The priest looked back. "Tell Kanna she has a week off. And that she can visit Luchist whenever it pleases her.  
>- Y-Yes, my Lord." As the shaman disappeared, his king went to the window, silently playing with the lighter.<p>

"So this is where you hid all this time," he whispered, his eyes lost in the horizon. "But now we are to stop the game, dearest."

Behind him, several stones lying in the bottom of the basin exploded.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. December. The seventeenth. 20:21<br>Year 2000**

_The first time, she was strong enough to reject him, telling him he was mad and that she would never allow such things. He smirked and asked her if she wanted to die so much. She told him that she did, which only made his smirk grow – thought as much. As the days of the first week passed, he tormented her relentlessly, as if wanting her to break down or simply give up. The night after Kevin nearly died from a heart attack, he came again, offering mockingly to comfort her – offer that she refused, of course. When a whole week had passed, everything was more or less hopeless – even if no one dared to say so – for all the X-Laws. Marco was still recovering and Lyserg didn't listen to the warnings and trained way too much for it to be healthy._

_That night, he wasn't the one to initiate the meeting – but, of course, he expected it – and when she came, he was ready. He took her by the hand and led her out of the deck and village, and strangely she didn't seem to mind – they walked for what seemed hours until anything that was known by the Iron Maiden vanished behind. They walked on some field of grass, and the tall boy stopped. Under the troubled gaze of the young girl, he lied down, and gestured her to do the same. In the end, she did, and he passed hours to show her his sky. His dreams. Even if she didn't always agree, she listened, silent._

_Later in the night, he stood back up and landed her a hand. During the whole evening, he had acted as if the rivalry between them as contestants did not exist, and suddenly she just couldn't continue. She stayed crouched on the floor, her head buried into her hands. Slowly, he bent down to her height, and caressed her hair. "You're tired." He said, not really knowing why he cared. "Yes," she answered. "Oh God, please just take me away." She shivered again, as if everything was becoming too much. Softly, she began to cry. _

_This time, when he reached out to her, she didn't reject him. Instead, she let him bring her to rest, unwilling or maybe unable to resist. After this, only broken words, empty promises and shattered innocence could be heard._

_Near the end, a pale arm fell on the mattress, mirroring the defeat of its owner. The Iron Maiden had lost. Was lost. And no one would ever be able to revive her this time._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Hao<span>:** … Oh my. Oh my.

**Rain:** … Now what? You've won! … Where are the others?

**Hao:** They wanted me to suicide them after that.

**Rain:** … Oh - *revives them* - not cool. Surely it's not that bad, right?


	3. Wasteland of dreams

**Chapter two : Wasteland of dreams  
><span>Author<span> :** Rain**  
><span>Disclaimer:<span>** Nothing belongs to me here… Except the OCs.

I certainly hope you'll enjoy that chapter as well, even a bit smaller than the previous one. You'll see that more people than you thought survived ~

And, no, time has not come for you-know-who number one to meet you-know-who number two. Patience, patience ~

* * *

><p><span>Fighter 02:<span>  
><span>Wasteland of dreams<span>

* * *

><p><strong>No place.<br>Eternity?**

Pale, delicate pink. Everywhere.

He did not know _why_, or _how_, or even _when_, but he was damn sure he was not at Byrth. His city, mostly established on the former Pache Village and Mu continent, wasn't that… Pink. There were no other words. He was engulfed in a sea of color, as if drowning under the secrete knowledge of that part of the spectrum – even the air seemed thick enough for him to drink it as he would water! And yet, there was neither sun nor light whatsoever. Just pink. Around, behind, above him – hell, even when he looked at himself he couldn't be sure his body was not pink now. Not the normal skin pink (he was tanned and yellowish anyway) but that calm, almost shy color that he was seeing everywhere. That, he assumed, was not normal.

Hallucinations. Maybe it was finally time for the Great Spirits to give themselves fully to their owner. Or maybe he just drifted off to sleep after hearing Ashcroft – no. That could not be. He was headed to – headed? Why headed? Ah, yes. He needed to see her. The Itako. Of course. But then – he didn't fall asleep in a corridor, did he? And why was his train of thoughts so weird, so confused, so – unlike him. Was he really that tired?

Ah, now he remembered why he was asleep. He had decided to rest a little while before seeing her, just enough to be able to wake her up. Startled people were easier to manipulate, and he would need every trick he knew to submit Anna to his will. Yes, that was it.

Now that he had begun to calm down, he noticed subtle nuances of purple and mauve, as well. Theses colors erupted suddenly, from everywhere he could put his eyes on, and abruptly he associated these explosions of hues with light sounds.

Cries. Cries he heard before. Victims'? No, no, that was not it – but then who? He began to walk towards what he thought to be the source of the cries, but to no avail. They weren't getting nearer, not even after what felt like fifteen minutes, and he felt like he could walk miles without seeing anyone or anything for that matter. How would he? Everything was just pink.

Not really knowing why, he looked down to his feet, and noticed that he could see his steps, engraved in red on the pink he was walking on. As if he was leaving his mark behind him. As if his sole presence was altering this strange place. The normal Hao would not have really cared, but without knowing why he felt touched. A rumble of thunder was heard. What…?

The Shaman King felt a heavy blow on his stomach, and he was thrown across the place. Getting up swiftly, he looked around for an attacker. Found none. This area was really driving him mad. Who would be crazy enough to dare attack the master of the Great Spirits?

He was interrupted by a wail, so loud it startled the omnyôji. Looking sideway, he saw a child. A child who was not here before. That, once again without knowing why, he was sure of.

She was crying and crying, her back to the Shaman King, head bowed between her weak knees, holding something (someone?) Hao could not see. Shivers and sobs were racking through her, shaking her as if she was only a fragile leaf. Now the Shaman was sure he never saw that girl before. Then why did her voice…? He tried to reach the child, to get her to face her king, but it seemed to be impossible. He couldn't see the little girl clearly, not even enough to know what she looked like, and yet… Yet? Suddenly, the pink was overcome with black, and before he woke up, he finally made sense of the fragile words he heard:

_"Save us."_

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 03:12.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.**

Hao opened his eyes lazily, the dream still printed on his pupils. This child – he knew her without knowing her. That was, at least, surprising. An extremely strong Shaman at such a young age? She was not at Byrth, that was for sure. Only one child that had been born in the town during these ten years could pretend to reach the level of strength he felt, and Hana, if strong, was not showing such a force or a pink aura.

Sighing, he put the dream in one corner of his brain and returned to the business at hand. He finally had her exact location. And, in order to reach her, he only needed one thing – which was Anna's help.

Good thing he had not killed her. The Itako had not fought after the death of Yoh, staying crouched in the basement of the team Fumbari Onsen, so he had seen no reason to extinguish that pitiful life – moreover as she was pregnant with his brother's child. Now he felt glad he let her live – one functioning Itako, if prisoner, was better than a dead fiancée, even symbol of the ones who tried to fight him.

As he still had not his real powers, he could only probe the Great Spirits' societies, while the Itako could call forth any spirit of said societies. Which made a great difference: what he did in hours, or more, in that precise domain, she did within seconds. Jeanne could vanish in the next hours, he didn't have the time to go and search the spirit he wanted himself. Besides, he would need his full furyoku to tame the Iron Maiden.

Smirking, he took the stairs that led to the last floor, place where his precious foes were lying. In fact, he had no more than two prisoners in that jail, but they were well guarded and treated because – and there he was, back to that stupid promise. Good thing it'd end soon.

Hastily, he passed Marco's cell, not wanting to hear the whiny blondie. Sadly for him, the former X-Laws seemed all but asleep, and upon seeing his arch-enemy stood, hitting the bars repeatedly. "Come back here! HERE I SAID! What did you do to our Iron Maiden? HAO!"

The brown-haired Shaman paused. How did the prisoner know about her? He hadn't told anyone – except his former troops, of course. Oh, yes, he sighed. Luchist. His lieutenant should really learn not to let such valuable information slip, even in front of prisonners, or soon Hao'd have to _discuss_ it with the priest – after all, soon _she_ would be here, and there were things she should not know. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO JEANNE ?  
>- Don't be that loud, blondie," retorted the brown-haired Shaman King, smooth and sarcastic as ever as he used his power to knock the other out cold. "People are sleeping in there."<p>

Not even looking back to the now unconscious man on the grey cell floor, he walked on swiftly to the other occupied cell of that floor, and, after opening the heavy door, entered it.

Anna was awake – but, after all the noise made by Marco, that wasn't so difficult – but not since long, judging by her almost confused look and mind. She had grown into what he could call a lovely woman, if not for the cell and the exhaustion he could read on her face. She managed a blank stare, before saying: "So? What does the great Shaman King want from me at this time of the night?"

Hao smiled. "Sarcasm will do nothing good to you, Anna."

Her name rolled with sharp irony in his mouth, and already the young Itako wanted nothing more than trash his head on the ground. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't talk to her. He shouldn't even _breathe_ before her after what he had done to her Yoh and her Hana. "Calm down, Anna," he repeated, a sly smirk forming on his lips, "I am not merely here to taunt you. I came because I want you to call someone for me."

She smiled then, a cold and ironic smile as she replied boldly: "Call? Did someone destroy your vocal chords, great Shaman King? I'm sure a hit on the right place would bring your annoying voice back. I would even be honored to be the one to kick you there, Hao.  
>- Don't forget your place, dear Itako," he smirked. "Hana, Keiko and the children of the Golem are still in Byrth. You know one flick of my finger could have them dead and turned to ashes.<br>- I'm not forgetting anything," seethed the blond Itako, her voice full of hatred hardly controlled. "But, as the great Shaman you are, you surely know I can't use my powers without the 1080, which you broke to pieces. And, additionally, as I know why you need me thanks to your loud priest, causing harm to the sole woman who escaped your grip on her own would bother me."

Hao smirked as she spoke, his power suddenly exploding around him as he tackled the young woman to the wall. One hand found its way to Anna's throat, and he approached his head until they were centimeters apart, brown and calm orbs plunging deep into the pain-filled ones. "Then I am not so sorry to tell you that you will be bothered. For these useless pearls have been sheltered until I could have use of them. Now Anna, what do you say? Will Hana live to see another day?"

The blond-haired Itako's hand caught his forearm, defiance showing in her eyes as she tried to think of a way out, and finally found there was none. With a low, atone voice, she asked, defeated: "Who do you want to call?"

He chuckled then, and let go of her before answering: "I am happy to see that you have finally come to your senses. The spirit I am in need of is Rowana – you know her well, I am sure."

Anna frowned, her hands tightening into fists. The spirit he wanted could be a real danger to the safety of the Iron Maiden. She had never quite liked Jeanne, but now likes and dislikes were nothing in front of the fact that the albinos was the only one to have escaped Hao's grasp – and she did not want to be part in her capture. Still, she managed to ask, in a low and now controlled voice: "What will you do with her?"

She was not talking about the spirit anymore.

"This," replied the omnyôji as he smiled, his hand flying back to her throat, "is nothing that should concern you."

This time the Itako could not reply, her windpipe almost crushed under the pressure of his hand. They stayed like this for several seconds before he let go of her neck and took her arm, roughly leading her out of the cell.

_I hope you are already far, Iron Maiden. So very far. Don't let him win this game._

Hao outright laughed. Anna sighed in defeat.

At least she had her precious pearls back, if only for a moment. She was not defenseless anymore.

As if such things counted when facing the Shaman King.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 06:43.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.**

Seventy-eight million eight hundred eighty tree thousand two hundred seconds. Twenty one thousand nine hundred and twelve hours. Nine hundred and thirteen days. Thirty months. Two years and a half.

No one knew she had counted. No one had to know after all, it was not worth telling anyone, not even the former angels. What did theses number mean, they would ask. What are you counting?

_What are these numbers for, Meene?_

Lyserg asked, once. He had heard her count slowly as she was training. She had given him a blank stare and said that she counted the push-ups she was doing. Which made her situation worse, as she was _not_ doing push-ups at the time. But the dowser didn't go further. Lyserg had grown wise.

She was surely the last one to count. The last one to really _care _about Marco Maxwell's fate. Ah – she was being unfair. The former X-Laws all cared for their leader, but they just – they just thought he was dead, had been dead for two years now. Like Jeanne. Almost ten years had passed since the disappearance of their saint. To the princess, to the X-Laws, the Iron Maiden and her lieutenant were dust now. Holy dust, yes, but dust still.

And they were surely right.

Fighting for her control, she stopped thinking and aimed, before firing twice on the target. Its heart showed now two holes, about five centimeters apart. Putting the gun back in its holster, Meene took off the earmuffs and got out of the training room, not even taking the time to greet her friends. Lyserg made a move to go to her, but Venstar stopped him, his features curving into a large frown.

Meene took corridor upon corridor, and finally entered the parts of the headquarters which contained her apartments. They were empty at this hour, surely 'Tony wasn't awake yet – which was good. He wasn't old enough to really understand what was torturing her, and she did not wish him to see her in that state. The light-haired woman went to the kitchen, absently stretching as she filled a glass of water and drank it. She had to calm down. Thinking too much only led to one thing – anguish. And anguish meant no work done. She took another glass. "Mom, is that you?"

Her head turned and she smiled tiredly at her son. Antonio Maxwell, now seven years old, seemed way more mature than he really was. Tall for his age, he hid his olive eyes behind thick glasses. But what she saw first hit her, with the same force it always had: long, messy blond bangs that were the obvious mark of his father. She gulped and forced another smile before asking: "Hello you. What do you want for breakfast?  
>- I've already eaten, thanks. I just went in my room to take a book."<p>

Excitedly, he showed her a huge, leather-bound book of tales. He had surely grabbed it in the library of Kevin. "Be careful with that, okay? I don't Kev' going all mad on me because you destroyed a treasure," she said jokingly. "And while we're on this – what will you do today, Tony?  
>- Free time, as every Sunday mom," he teased, " but Miss Tamao said she and Kevin would show us the sky this evening! To teach us constellations and stuff," he said, then paused. Softly, as if it was an afterthought, he continued, "Miss Tamao said stars were the souls of the people who passed away."<p>

Meene put her glass down on the table, closing her eyes. She knew what was coming. She could feel it hovering in the room – and knew she couldn't do anything about it. Even mature for his age, Antonio was still seven. "Mom?  
>- Yes?"<p>

Another pause, longer, stronger than the first time. She hoped against hope he would not ask – but he did.

"Did Father become a star?"

She opened her green eyes as he spoke, half wanting to break down and cry, half wanting to slap him for speaking out loud what she feared. If only she could say no, reassure him. If only she was sure –

"Your father is alive, 'Tony."

It wasn't her voice but it carried genuine certainty. Meene looked up and gave a grateful smile to John, who was presently at the threshold, surely because he had work for her. Nodding, she added, to comfort the child: "Marco will return soon. I promise you."

She certainly hoped she would not break her promise as she followed her teammate outside.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 07:21.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.**

"Jeanne."

_Flames raging around them, around her, pain exploding through her back and stomach as the Iron Maiden closed on her weak body, and his smile, always his smile, ironic and dark and dangerous and –_

"Jeanne!"

_People around her, calling her name, with adoration for some, with mockery for others, but there was one, one who was different, one who did not judge her when it mattered most, who was it again –_

"JEANNE!"

She suddenly woke up, startled by the loud shriek of Rya. The ghost, who obviously had been desperately trying to shake her to the wake, seemed, if relieved by her move, scared and lost. "Yes, Rya?"

The young ghost looked, if at all possible, paler than usual as she spoke, but her words struck Jeanne: "Hane is gone."

Jeanne blinked then, not understanding or wanting to understand what this meant. She swallowed and asked, slowly, feeling her insides rebel at the simple idea: "What do you mean, 'Hane is gone'?  
>- She just got out of the basement with the passwords and the right manipulations as if she had always known them, and went straight out. Jeanne, morning is not even here yet, there are still animals running around and -!"<p>

Jeanne had not waited for the rest. Not stopping to think about the impossibility of the whole situation, she stood and made a run for the exit. Her child was in danger. She ran, her sleeping clothes clinging to her frame as she climbed the stairs and passed through the open gate of the basement.

A little voice, atone and not singing the tune right, was resounding into the forest.

_"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
>How l wonder what you are!"<em>

The brown-haired child was there, her blank stare directed at the sky, her mouth slightly open as if to draw a breath before she continued the song. Her hand held loose her favorite plush, a bluish rabbit Jeanne had saved from another cache.

_"Up above the world so high,  
>Like a diamond in the sky;<br>Twinkle, twinkle, little star –_

- HANE!"

The former Iron Maiden fell to her knees in the snow, not caring the least for the chill that immediately ran up her spine. She embraced her daughter, cradling her, whispering soothing little nothings in her ear. "It's alright, I'm here. Okay Hane? Mama's here. Look at me Hane, look. And promise me, please, promise me not to do that again. Don't you ever do that again, Hane, don't you ever…  
>- <em>How I wonder what you are…"<em>

Jeanne rocked the girl back and forth, wondering if one day Hane would be able to understand her. What the child had done today proved she was smarter than they first believed her to be, but any small stupid hope she could have for recovery were crumbled. Hane was still…

"Jeanne. Look."

Frowning, she looked up to Rya and followed the gaze of the ghost.

Her scarlet eyes widened as she instinctively tightened her hold on her daughter. The cold sneaking through their thin, pale clothes was momentarily forgotten. Rya, on her side, had stopped moving, her body frightened by the mere sight of the spirit who had killed her only ten years before. "That's bad," was whispered, but the two women could not be sure as to who spoke these words.

"Mama, why is the star so red?"

Spirit of Fire, in all its blazing glory, was flying towards them on a very, very fast and alarming pace.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Jeanne:<span>** And here I was, peaceful and all…

**Hao:** You thought I wouldn't kill you? Pff.

**Jeanne:** I am not so sure, but I do think it's not what she _*points Rain* _has in mind. Sadly.

**Hao:** She's got nothing in mind, she's sleeping right now.

**Rain:** *_snores* *stopped writing at 2:00 am*_

**Jeanne:** Good point.


	4. Fireflies ending

**Chapter III: **Fireflies ending  
><strong><span>Author<span>:** Rain**  
><span>Disclaimer<span>:** Shaman King belongs to H. Takei.

* * *

><p><span>Fighter 03:<span>  
><span>Fireflies ending<span>

* * *

><p><strong>Nowhere.<br>Eternity?**

_Siglen?_

_Yes?_

_Hane scared._

_I know. You'll be fine. He'll help._

_Siglen stays?_

_Of course._

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 07:35.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Siberia.<strong>

To first to regain her ability to speak properly was Jeanne. She blinked quite a few times before opening her mouth – almost unsurprised to find it dry. The albino tried to think logically: "Rya. Take Hane to the basement rooms and – and find her the warmest clothes, as well as food for her. Don't forget her plushies. Come back to tell me when you're ready – I'll send you away from him.  
>- But…<br>- No buts. We really – I mean, we have no time and I can't let him see her."

Hane, still engulfed in her mother's embrace, slightly startled when Jeanne moved, forming eye contact.

"Hane? Listen to mama okay?" She blinked, indicating she was listening. "Hane, I want you to follow and obey Rya. Can you promise that to me?"

The brown-haired child blinked another time before muttering: "Can you promise that to me?"

Jeanne sighed, her hands grazing once more the frail shoulders of her daughter before she took a chunk of metal from her pocket: "Over-Soul. Rya in Metallic Nymph."

Rya, over-souled this way, could materialize and touch objects and people like she was a living person, a technique they had used countless times when Jeanne just needed help. Wasting no time, the slender, black-haired ghost took Hane's hand and led her back to the basement. Jeanne took a deep breath. "Shamash?"

A silence, and the powerful spirit appeared, as always reading his never-ending book. "Yes?"

The silver-haired woman found herself unable to phrase her thoughts. In the end, she simply asked: "Are you alright with this?  
>- With what?"<p>

The Babylonian God did not look at her, concentrating on his book. His calm, confident tone almost soothed his Shaman. Almost.

"You did not say anything about me retiring from the Shaman Fight, and you helped Rya and me raising Hane. If you think I misjudged the situation or that what I decided to fight for is not worth your justice –

Little mistress." His hollow, white eyes directed themselves at her as he closed his book. "You were the one to liberate me. I will follow you, no matter what. My time as a God has passed – what I am now is your spirit. No more."

She managed a weak smile.

"Thank you."

He opened his book again, apparently searching for the page he was reading previously. "Stupid mistress."

Her smile gained strength. "Thank you."

Another chunk of metal was highlighted by her fouryoku as she prepared herself for something she had not done for a very, very long time.

"Over-Soul. Shamash in Iron Maiden."

* * *

><p>He had a large, almost innocent-looking smile. She was aware of his arrival. How fitting.<p>

* * *

><p>"I am ready, Jeanne, and Hane as well. But, I really want to know something."<p>

Rya was still in the depths of the basement. Jeanne had just closed the heavy gate of the vault and sealed it when the ghostly voice rang from an interphone, not surprising her the least. Watching intently the flight of the oncoming spirit, she answered: "Yes?"

The metallic device added a hollow tone to the ghost's voice, and sounds of rushing were heard behind her. Hane called for her mother once. Rya finally asked: "Why fight him now? You never accepted to stand against him before.  
>- He was not threatening Hane," was the automatic answer. After a silence, Jeanne tried to elaborate: "Rya – you know about my past.<br>- And that is why I can't understand! You were the strongest. If not you, who would kill him?"

That shook the Maiden, who leaned against the wall, as if searching for support. "I was not – he could not be won over. Listen, I know what he did to you and… All or most of the other humans on earth was unforgivable. But I – I was not strong enough and…"

She trailed off, unable to continue.

"Jeanne…?"

This time the albino was glad the other couldn't see her face.

"I'm sending you two out of here."

Instantly, the Babylonian God teleported both the over-souled spirit and the little child to the furthest place she could. When this was done, the young woman stepped up to the center of the clearing.

Jeanne and Shamash stood alone for what seemed seconds before the blazing Spirit stopped itself, towering over them. On the shoulder of the red giant was sitting a man she had wished to never see again.

"You look tired, my dear. Too many late nights?"

The young woman did not answer, simply staring at him. Everything that would have, before, embarrassed her – the fact that she was in her pajamas, the fact that she really looked exhausted and wary – did not matter the least. Her jaw tightened. His simple presence was almost too much to bear. Everything came running back: the endless torture, the silence between her and the others, the beatings Marco inflicted to Lyserg with her mute consent – past had washed over present and was threatening to consume her if she didn't stop it somehow.

The Shaman King chuckled and jumped from his spirit, landing softly in front of her. Spirit of Fire vanished into thin air, but she knew better than just release her Over-Soul. However, she could not help herself but stare at him, detailing his appearance. Hao had always been taller than her, and now she noticed the height difference had increased. He had maybe one foot more than her now, but looked exactly as dangerous. As deadly.

So deadly.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Even his voice –

Jeanne frowned. "Your sense of humor is as awful as always," she finally said. He laughed at that as fire began to spread in the clearing, leaving the trees untouched but stopping her from running away.

"You have grown quite delightful, little Maiden. So this is where you chose to live? You and me might have not exactly the same ideas on decorum.

"That is for sure. You always need that grandiloquence of yours.  
>- Oooh, I am hurt.<br>- Great then."

His smile grew to a disturbing wideness. She felt the oxygen slowly disappearing from the area as he used it, flames bursting and roaring around them. Inside her mind, she was glad she had closed the basement. Her few possessions were into it. That thought drew an amused look on Hao's face before he simply switched topics. "You know, I never quite thought you'd keep her."

She stopped herself from cringing. Of course he would know.

A pause. "I did not save her from you just to kill her afterwards.  
>- Aah, that I knew, but to keep her with you… You are very strange sometimes you know – isn't she the daughter of the evil you vowed to destroy?"<p>

"She is a child," was the firm, immediate response. _Mine,_ she did not say – no need to.

He chuckled, and retorted swiftly: "Your blondie never had such a problem while trying to kill Opachô – or even the Hanagumi for that matter.  
>- You killed his wife and children. That is the difference."<p>

There, he marked a silence, as if dwelling on her words: "Not quite right – but this is not relevant. I've come to bring you both back.  
>- Back to where? This is our home."<br>- Is that so? Why isn't the princess at home then?"  
>- Because she had to be spared from seeing the evil king."<p>

That made him snicker, which made the young woman shiver. The next words hit her with sheer force as what she feared came true.

"I guess I'll have to change that tale ending, then."

Even if she half-knew it would happen, Jeanne's heart almost ceased to beat when Spirit of Fire reappeared, the small and pale form of Hane curled into one of his large, red hands. The girl seemed so tiny in the spirit's clutch… She really cringed this time, and could not help but ask – even if she already knew the answer: "Where is Rya?"

"The ghost? Not valuable.  
>- Valuable?"<p>

Her voice almost broke at this.

"She didn't even ease Spirit of Fire's hunger. It was a long trip coming here, you know?

Block everything out. You'll think about it later. Now the only thing counting was Hane. The former Iron Maiden made sure her voice did not tremble: "That was unnecessary."

Small victory.

"She didn't want to let go of my princess."

Jeanne frowned: "_Your_ princess?

That made him laugh quietly.

"Whether you want it or not, I am her father – unless you slept with another Asian boy roughly ten years ago."

That hit his target. She recoiled from him, her pose disappearing one instant. The young woman instinctively crossed her arms in front of herself – defensive posture. There was a silence.

"You are not her father," she murmured.

His eyes narrowed. His fouryoku flared around him as he asked, voice low and this time with no trace of hilarity: "What?"

Jeanne forced herself to unclench her fists and exhale before answering: "She does not know you. Her only family is Shamash, Rya and me. You have no right to claim her as your child – furthermore as you just took the almost only friend of that _princess_. Congratulations," she managed to say between clenched teeth.

If that upset him, he did not let it show. On the contrary, one of his eyebrows raised and his smirk returned, as if on the verge of a jest.

"So you admit she's the princess of the Shaman Kingdom?"

Unprepared to say the last, Jeanne almost snapped at him: "Do you even listen to me?"

That only widened his smirk. "If I had to wait until what you said followed my will…"

But the amusement was suddenly gone from his face, and he took a step forward. "It's your turn to listen to me Jeanne, I have honored our promise. Come back.  
>- No way. I too have obeyed: I am alive, in case you did not notice. Now Hao, I didn't try to kill your pack, I didn't even attack the ones who came in these lands to tell you where I was. I am going to tell you, one last time: Let. Us. In. Peace. You already took Rya," it hurt to say that directly, and she felt a pang of pain rushing through her stomach. "And all the others," she draw a breath, "If I have to fight, I will."<p>

He smiled at her words.

"Good idea. You should know by now that time doesn't matter." His smile became a sneer. "I will always be stronger."

She wanted to launch an attack at him, but he was not there anymore – and she felt a blow coming from behind. Not especially a strong or wounding blow, just one that would knock her out cold. She gasped –

"Rowana, your turn" – and then no more.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. October seventh. 14:30.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth.<strong>

This is not happening. Not happening. It's just an hallucination. Nothing real. Sure, it was all in her head.

She ran down the stairs that led to the entrance of the Plantations, ignoring blatantly the inquisitive gaze of Magna and the worried look of Blon. She would have gone straight to her secret place, but one white-haired boy, younger than her by several years, was calmly sitting across the entrance. When the Pache hastily stopped, he calmly looked up, and said, after a time: "Hello there. You seem pretty sad?"

She frowned. "You are… Clay, I think. Luchist's student, the one who is scared to death by anyone from the Shaman Fight.  
>- Wrong. I am his twin. No joking, I'm really Clay," he added quickly when he saw the face she was making. "And I'm not scared. Just impressed. After all, my fouryoku level is pretty low…"<p>

She was already annoyed: "What are you doing here, _Clay_? The plantations are reserved…  
>- To our Shaman King and the former Paches. I know. So which one are you? I thought they were all men…<br>- I was the ninth," she said defiantly, "and the information 'me being a woman' was hidden for several reasons. I am now the tenth Pache, if you want to know my real number. Why?"

Clay stood stretching, and smiled brightly before asking: "You seem distressed. What happened?  
>- None of your business. I just wanted to be alone – but I can't seem to reach my goal."<p>

That made him cock his head to the side, as if awed by the idea: "Alone? Such a beautiful flower wanting no company? Shame, shame. Well, if you have secrets to tell, Pache, I'm the good person. I'm rarely in Byrth at all – and when here I live with my sister, so you see, I can't spread so much gossip."

He was definitely nuts. Or taking her for a dumb child.

"I don't know what you were told about Paches, but I am no fool. You're Luchist's apprentice. What Luchist knows…  
>"Lord Hao knows. True. But if I do tell my master you were crying, he'll ask me why, and if I don't tell him a good reason, he'll dwell on it, and Lord Hao will get curious. It's preferable not to be known by our Lord for hiding things. Silence leads to suspicion only."<p>

That made it. She shook her head, one hand coming up to her hip and her medium.

"Fine. You reached my breaking point. Get lost, kid. Out of my way or I'll really show you _why_ I was made tenth Pache after Goldova's death. If the Shaman King wants to know what troubles me, he'll ask directly. I said out of my way!"

Clay did not make the slightest move.

"My, my, you're upset. Is it a broken heart?"

She felt her cheeks flushing red.

"W-what are you talking about?  
>- Aah, touché. So, who is it, your torturer?"<p>

As he was talking, he took two steps towards her, a huge smile plastered on his lips. She was not very familiar with Luchist, but she could recognize the diplomatic attitude he used on every Shaman he encountered.

"… Get lost," she muttered.

Grey Saucer brutally appeared at her side, glaring at the pale-haired teenager, who instantly backed up.

"Okay, okay. I went too far I suppose, after all you probably know our lord better than I do."

His head turned to the stairs, and what he saw pleased him. "Ah, sis, you're here."

The Pache looked back at the mild-aged woman who had just arrived. She didn't know her name but what she knew was that she was the nurse to all orphans of Byrth. Blond-haired, green-eyed, she looked exactly like her brother.

"Well, until next time, Miss Rutherford."

Brutally led back to the present, Rutherford nodded him away.

He exited the place slowly, his cunning smile never leaving his lips. When he was totally out of sight, the Pache sighed before sitting down on the floor of the entrance of the Plantations. "That idiot is going to get me trouble…"

After a moment, the Pache ran a hand through her tick black hair:

"Nichrom…"

* * *

><p><strong><span>Jeanne<span>:** *tries to imagine this fic doesn't exist*

**Hao:** … So I killed you, right?

**Jeanne:** Let's hope so. *prays*


	5. Daughter of Evil

**Chapter IV: Daughter of Evil  
>Author:<strong> Rain**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> Don't claim any of Shaman King, it's Takei's. But, I do claim the OCs, and the scenario.

* * *

><p>Fighter 04:<br>Daughter of evil

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 15:35.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth.<strong>

Hao slowly lowered the frail, tiny body of his daughter in her bed, before stepping back and observing her. She was of course Asian, short for her age – but that part was only logical, as her parents both had been. Her long, straight brown hair was at hips length. With her eyes closed, the resemblance was indeed striking.

The child laid there unmoving before her pale face rolled to the side, making brown bangs fall in front of her eyes. Her father brushed it aside, slowly, but was interrupted by another move of the frail child, her hand coming to her stomach, clutching a blue rabbit between her tiny fingers. "Siglen", she called in a desperate, if whispered, plea. The Shaman King frowned, but she had already fallen back into the realm of dreams, her breath coming out in light puffs. Her hand slowly released the plush, which fell to the side of the bed before rolling off to the floor.

Hao knelt down and stared at it, his eyes lingering on the permanent marker lines written on its back. It was an English nursery rhyme about a star twinkling… Human nonsense. He wondered if he should burn the whole thing, but decided against that and put the plush in his daughter's lap. Moving slightly, said daughter made it fall to her side, and pouted slightly.

She was cute. The fire Shaman smiled. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he felt a pang of something like pride coursing through his veins as he retired from the room. Jeanne was leaving the realm of dreams and he wanted to be there when she would wake up.

The former Iron Maiden had only opened her eyes, took in the surroundings and stood up when her Nemesis entered the elegant room, dressed in the large red kimono he already wore when he came to the basement. His chocolate orbs gazed at her, an already faint smile on his lips – the fire Shaman looked like a predator eyeing its prey. The Iron Maiden frowned, suddenly very aware of the way her light nightdress clung to her body. As he did not say anything, she began: "Where are we? And where is Hane?  
>- Our daughter," the Shaman answered with his usual charming tone, "is safe and sound, sleeping in some room of the castle of Mû – since that's where we are."<p>

Jeanne would have wanted to go and see her daughter, if only to make sure she wasn't already awake and frightened, but Hao had stopped on the threshold and obstructed the way. "Get out," she said, firm and clear, only to be replied with, "Where are you going to go?"

She rolled her eyes at this. "What do you think – I take my daughter and we get out of there." He did not even stir when Shamash appeared at her side, his book open but his eyes on the fire Shaman. The god of justice and his Shaman were equally crossed at the sight of the smirk that he previously had kept hidden but which finally emerged. "I am afraid it will not be possible," he murmured lazily, "unless I say so, of course, but this is not the case, right?"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "And why, pray tell, should I stay here?"

His lips widened even more as his grip closed on her arm, directing its underside to her face. "Because of that." One strange, dark red glyph was glowing slightly in circles and curves on the flesh, following her vein pattern. It began at her wrist and ended at her elbow. "What is that?  
>- Nothing but caution for me.<br>- Caution?  
>- I can't exactly having you running away from me another time, can I?<br>- Yes you could," she muttered. His smug, languid attitude almost drew her to an edge. A vague memory lingered on the outer borders of her mind, and she frowned, asking: "Was it the spirit you called back then? Rowana?" He raised an eyebrow, amused, "I'm surprised you even remember her."

The albino blinked, her voice rising to an high-pitched tone as she asked again, "What did you do to me?"

Hao chuckled, "Relax, dear. It only prevents random teleporting and stupid outbursts." She frowned, unable to resist the need to create a space between him and herself. Her arm moved, breaking free of his grip as she took a step back, and to her surprise he did not follow, leaning on the wall. The gleam of his eyes upset her as she replied: "Stupid outbursts? Think again. I _am_ leaving. With Hane." As the young woman said these words, an excruciating pain erupted from the glyph. She did not cringe, but she felt her fouryoku run through her veins and vanish through thin air, and she did flinch when she realized she was weakening. Her bloody eyes sent daggers to the brown-haired Shaman. He sighed, "If only you knew how much that saddens me."

Disgust painted itself on her face as she held her chin high and spat: "Keep your irony for someone who can actually fight back, will you?  
>- I did not block out your shamanic abilities or anything…" he mused, faking bewilderment. She shook her head, her eyes filled with something like hatred. "No you didn't, of course you didn't. What Shaman King would want a human wife when he just <em>destroyed all humans<em>?  
>- "You're really different from who you were ten years ago…" said Shaman King pondered, his smile never leaving his lips, "Where is your calm gone, Jeanne<em>-sama<em>?"

The albino ignored the snarky remark. "I had plenty of time to realize what you had done to the world and to _me_."

His expression suddenly changed, and she wondered how exactly the Reishi worked, how deep in her psyche her enemy could read. Straightening out, Hao stepped forward, his gloved hand coming to her neck. Raising her chin, he stared at her features, suddenly making a slightly upset face. "I warned you about falling in love with me."

Jeanne froze as his words sank in, then the Iron Maiden let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "So that's what you think? I was raised as a messiah, told that I'd stay a virgin saint all my very short life, I never even looked at a boy before you! And wait, I wasn't even wanting to look at you, you were almost harassing me! Love? I did not even know what that means - !  
>- Do you, now?" Her passion broke against his threatening stillness. She was almost shouting now, whereas his words came out as whispers. Dangerous, deadly whispers. "What?" was all she managed to utter.<br>"Now that you've grown, do you know what it means?" He obligingly explained. After a slight pause, she answered, furious: "Yes, it's getting Hane to smile in the morning, it's protecting family, mourning loved ones…" He sighed, his grip tightening. "You know that wasn't what I meant."

She batted her eyelashes, trying desperately to regain her composure, "Well, I know that you harassed a young, innocent girl…  
>- You think I would have 'harassed' anyone but you?<br>- No, they weren't meant to fight during the finale!" She was livid. During a moment, they both stayed quiet, Hao merely observing her. The tension did not disappear but thinned out, which for Jeanne was a relief. She didn't want to snap before him.

He suddenly snarled: "You would have died." The cold, assured statement infuriated her even more than previously if that was possible, but the albino kept her anger in check and replied steadily, "I would have been among the others," _and it was all that counted_.  
>- You would have fought, and lost, and watched me destroy their souls.<br>- And that would have been better!"

The smack was unexpected, and Jeanne shakily brought a hand up to her cheek.

"Never say that again, you hear me?"

Fury and defiance were dancing in the former Iron Maiden's eyes as she stared at him. Her eyes stung. "You too have changed," she hissed. Scarlet orbs battled brown ones, their silent fight lasting a time that neither of them could have really be sure of. They opened their mouths at the same time, but as they began to speak, a loud scream interrupted them.

Hane's.

* * *

><p>Her eyes groggily fluttered open.<p>

"Mama?"

When not answered, the child opened her large, glossy eyes, rose from the bed and searched for the never-ending presence in her environment. But – she did not recognize any of the things her eyes registered. High, yellowish walls – not the white and short ones of her room – encircled her; noble, wooden bed and suitcases and bookshelf replaced the usual metallic goods; and what scared her the most, neither her toys nor Rya nor Mash nor mama was there.

She screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>Nowhere.<br>Eternity?**

_Siglen Siglen what happened?_

_Calm down, just calm down. It will be okay._

_Hane not understand._

_It's okay. Shush now._

_Siglen sure?_

_Sure. Can you stop screaming?_

_Can you stop screaming?_

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 15:35.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth.<strong>

Following the sound of the voice, Jeanne found and rushed into the room, followed soon after by Hao. The child lost her voice as soon as she saw her mother, instead starting to weep loudly as the albino knelt at her side and cradled her. Rocking the kid back and forth, she murmured soothingly: "Hane, calm down. Calm down. I'm here. Mama's here. It's alright.  
>- Mama."<p>

The child tightened her hold on the woman, her small arms encircling her mother's waist. "Mash," she frowned at the spirit, then whispered, shaken: "Rya where?"

Jeanne closed her eyes, still rocking the child in her arms. After a while, her eyes opened again, and she faced Hao with a look of utter loathing. "See what you've done now?" The Shaman did not answer, his stern gaze locked on the two girls. Hane struggled feebly, a scared gleam in her eyes, and disentangled herself from her mother's grip. "Hane wants Rya.  
>- I know.<br>- Hane wants Rya!"

Jeanne sighed. Hane was in for a tantrum – or so she thought, because the child fell on her backside and thus forgot – for now – about the previous matter. The little girl whined: "Hane tired." Jeanne smiled out of relief, a hand coming to smooth down her daughter's bangs as she replied: "You can sleep if you want. After all, you woke up early today."

The child blinked a few times, but instead of falling back to sleep, she pointed at Hao, frowning: "Who he?"  
>- I am Hao," stepped in the Shaman, "your –<br>- No one, Hane."

The frown increased as the brown-haired girl repeated: "Haoyournoone?" Jeanne sighed, "Rest for now, okay?  
>- Hane not tired anymore," pouted the brown-haired girl.<p>

"Okay. What do you want to do then?" Hane's eyes widened and she looked at the bag Rya had filled with the child's stuff before departing. Hao had let it there – but from his expression he wished he did not. Jeanne smiled as Hane finally responded, "Drawing!"

The mother and daughter were interrupted by a slight snort. Jeanne looked up to Hao. The Shaman King was frowning and his arms were crossed, but she could not care less for his feelings at the moment. "What?  
>- You are not going to hide me from her.<br>- Telling her anything would be nonsense."

He glared at her, ready to retort – but he stopped, suddenly understanding that there was something wrong with the way she spoke, ever since they were talking about Hane, he could not place it, could not – he answered: "She is going to know.  
>- She would not understand," opposed Jeanne stubbornly.<p>

There. This was it. Why wouldn't the girl – "Understand?"

Jeanne shook her head. She raised a hand to her forehead, trying hard to decide whether or not he knowing would be worse than the present situation. "Why did you have to come back," she questioned, more for herself than for him, "why couldn't you just leave us alone and rule your pathetic world of Shamans alone. Why couldn't you –  
>- Answer my question," he demanded. "Why wouldn't she understand?"<p>

Jeanne looked at him, more distressed than defeated, "She – is autistic.  
>- What?<br>- Rya says – said," she said softly, "that her problem was in many ways like autism. Trouble when speaking. Repetitive moves, activities. Different expression patterns. Possible brain deficiency. Sometimes indifference towards others. Even though its effects are in some ways different from the human brain disorder, she is not able to function alone. She won't get if you're annoyed, bored or angry. That's why it's dangerous for her to meet people. If she crosses one of your minions, she won't know it. We're almost always the same for her, and any difference from her habits – Rya, this place, _you_ – is not understandable. That is what I meant when I said you weren't her father," answered the young woman mechanically while handing her daughter various pencils and a sheet from the bag. "This is no joke," she added then, watching sadly as the child began to draw an intricate forest of multi-colored vines. Hao stayed silent, his brown, earthy eyes staring alternately at Jeanne and Hane. His eyebrows shot up when the child abandoned the paper and began organizing the pencils to create a real maze on the floor. "Mama.  
>- Yes?<br>- Mama sad?"

Her response lacked spontaneity. "Of course not, Hane." The child leaned against her mother as she continued her game. "When Hane go home?" Jeanne looked up to Hao and said, poised and confident: "Soon enough."

The former Iron Maiden patted the head of her daughter, smiling with melancholy as the young brown-haired child landed a kick on the maze, sending pencils everywhere.

"Was she always like that?"

The albino looked up, a cold stare replacing her tender gaze as she scanned Hao's face for any clue to what he was trying to do, but she did not find anything. "Why? You intend to heal her? No fouryoku can reorganize the brain of a child."

He rolled his eyes. "Stop viewing me as a total stranger for once – you were the one to leave. I have every right to be part of my daughter's life."

She snickered, "As you were in Silva's ancestors', I presume. You destroyed _humanity_, Hao! You are no better than any mass murderer, you managed to get rid of the whole planet's natural inhabitants! And you want me to accept leaving Hane with you? She's frail enough already."

Hane, currently staring at her tiny hands, directed one towards Hao, her face curving into one of wrath. "You stop making mama angry. Hane annoyed." He noticed sparkles of fouryoku and a free laugh erupted in the Shaman King's throat. "As fiery and protective as her mother, I see." Jeanne shook her head, sighing as she slowly stroked her daughter's hair: "Evading the subject won't help, you know. You can't be her father. She doesn't grasp what that is."  
>- Then I'll teach her."<br>- And what? You'll make her the perfect human-hater soldier? No way.  
>- Speaking of which, you were the one to over-soul with both ghosts, where is her spirit ally?<br>- Spirit ally?"

It was her time to laugh. A cold, joyless laugh.

"There is something you did not understand, ô supreme Shaman King: Hane may be able to see ghosts and may have fouryoku, but she is not a Shaman."

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 17:21.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth.<strong>

"Hurry, Lip ! The others are waiting !  
>- Coming, coming," shouted back the teenager, hastily finishing to tie tightly her long braids. Lip sighed, checking herself quickly in the mirror before coming down the stairs. She was there greeted by her older twin, Rap. Both fifteen-years-old were wearing traditional Paches dresses, and only got different hairstyles for the others to recognize them. Well – that was Lip's explanation when she asked Rap if they could do so.<p>

The two girls headed out of their house and met their comrades. The youngest of them all was also the most powerful and the most dangerous of them all – if only because at the smallest injury would bring the Shaman King to the depths of murderous rage. Opachô, who had more or less copied his lord's style with the cargo pants and the large – if orange – cloak, smiled brightly at the twins, almost jumping on Lip when he saw her. "You're cute today, Lip-chan," he said, and Rap noticed a faint hue lingering on Lip's cheeks.

The second boy was less enthusiastic, but smiled at them nonetheless. Reoseb Munzer, the older of the group, had his arms crossed behind his head. He greeted the twins, affecting as always to be bored out of his mind. And, last but not least, his sister, Seyram, blinked at them, a slight smile appearing when Opachô came back to her, admiring her bead headband.

"It's the same headdress as always," mumbled Reoseb, a bit upset by his sister's behavior. "You guys should hurry, we're going to be late for practice and you know what happens when –  
>- Yes, we know," replied Rap, annoyed. "We babysit Hana as if he was a constant threat to the city, and he likes to play with our hair. So we're going."<p>

The eldest – Reoseb and Rap, if only by minutes – began to walk towards the beach and training area, but had to stop after only one or two meters. Opachô was still chatting and making huge moves to describe whatever he was talking about, with the two girls listening patiently. Reoseb groaned. "We said we were GOING," shouted Rap. The three youngsters finally followed them, seemingly running for what could as well be their lives.

Without even realizing it, they passed in front of Nichrom's personal residence. The shouts and laughs of the children disturbed the couple and Marion broke away, distressed to say the least. She did not really understand what Nichrom and herself were doing, or why _he_ was doing her that favor in the first place – did she not see the mournful glances, the angry quarrels between Nichrom and _that girl_, did she not comfort him after their last fight?

But maybe a miracle happened. Marion did not know much about miracles, but she remembered her father telling her a story about it, so long ago now… And that was the only way she could explain the situation.

Nichrom had loved the weird, fiery Pache girl. Then a miracle happened, and Nichrom now loved Marion. Yes. That did seem possible. For sure.

But what Marion did not remember is that miracles _do not_ happen.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. December. The twenty-seventh. 18:32<strong>**  
>Year 2000<br>Pache village.**

_The dark-haired teenage Pache was peacefully rearranging the piles of video tapes of the fights in the basement of the Pache building on Goldova's command when she stormed into the room. The young girl's face was furious and wild as she took him by the collar and tackled him to the wall. The box of tapes he had fell to the ground in a loud thud. "Ruthie…?" was all he could ask before receiving the punch of his life, square on his nose. The impact threw his head on the concrete wall and he saw stars for a while, and as she spoke, her words came from what seemed kilometers away: "You traitor," the fury hissed, "you betrayed us! All of us! Was it not enough that you were clearly supporting Hao? Was it not enough to go and sleep in his camp at night, instead of staying here with us? Did you really have to make sure the princess of the Gandhara would give up? And that _I_ wouldn't make it? How could you Nichrom? HOW COULD YOU?"_

_Now that the Shaman had recovered from the attack, he could see the tears shining in her dark irises. Rutherford's traditional white dress was ripped and torn in what seemed a multitude of places, and he could see severe wounds gaping on her arms. Then he saw the state of her hair. A large part had been chomped away, leaving her with both very long and very short strands. He rose a hand to it, shock all over his face: "Who did that to you?"_

_The ninth paused, eyes blank, and then her face turned once more into one of anger. Another blow shook the teenager's stomach. "How can you say that? How can you even _pretend_ you did not know? You were the one to give me that rendezvous in the first place! You led me right into the trap of your little friends and now you say you do not know what happened? You coward, liar, traitor, I HATE YOU!  
>- But, Ruthie -<br>- What could you say, Nic? What could be your explanation for contestant Mohammad Turbein and Pache Namari to attack me when I went to that stupid date you wanted, what could be your explanation for me seeing the spirit of contestant Sâti sealed away? What _could_ be your explanation for me almost dying?  
>- Rutherford…"<em>

_She slapped him, and somehow it hurt more than any of the blows he had received._

"_Don't _ever_ talk to me again, Pache Nichrom, owner of Yellow Whip. I will accept whichever Shaman King wins this tournament, but expect me to call Grey Saucer if you try to contact me once more. As far as I am concerned, you are dead."_

_And the ninth Pache was gone. For ever, in Nichrom's case._

* * *

><p><strong><span>Nichrom:<span>** So even us are in this? And... What is that? I'm paired with the HANA GIRL? Oh gosh. I knew I should have listened harder to Chrom when he talked about karma.

**Rain:** Eh, everything's already sorted up, don't worry. ... Or do. ~

**Jeanne:** I don't get how telling him is a good idea... He will kill the non-shaman, right? ... *sees Rain hitting repetidly a review button* Oh, why am I even trying. *goes away*


	6. Beginnings and Ends

**Chapter V – Beginnings and** Ends  
><strong><span>Author:<span>** Rain  
><strong><span>Disclaimer:<span>** Shaman King belongs to Hiroyuki Takei.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 17:40.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Pache village.**

Two silhouettes were walking in the large streets of Byrth, discussing about the children they were in charge of. One was large and tall, the other thin and small, but they looked alike – as alike two non-related adults could be – and any Shaman crossing their path would have recognized the two as Pache priests. Rutherford was listing the new techniques 'their' children had learned within the course of the last months. And in a way, they were 'theirs' – Reoseb, Seyram, Lip and Rap had no family. Only Opachô, being a former member of the festival of stars, had what he called his family. Chrom listened peacefully as she made hand gestures to emphasize her words, a small smile finding its way on her lips.

"I'm a bit worried for Hana though. Magna and… Namari are not the best parents our lord could find for a child his age."

Finally, she had paused, a look of anguish and what he recognized a second later as _fear_. Frowning, the elder patted her shoulder, hoping to reassure her: "You always worry for the children, Rutherford. They will be fine, you know – have you not seen the twins lately? Lip and Rap are breathtaking."

She blinked then smiled back, a joke somehow escaping her lips: "You even thought _me_ breathtaking at their age, Chrom, you're just not objective on the topic –

The tall priest was surprised by the sudden interruption, and turned to see what was wrong. Rutherford had suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes staring at something behind him. "What…" Turning, he discovered the house Nichrom was currently staying at before he and his team were sent on yet another mission to track down rebels. Yellow Whip's owner was behind the window, and he understood immediately what was wrong. His little brother was passionately kissing Marion. "Oh." The priest looked back at Rutherford. The young woman was livid, her eyes wide and blank while her arms had fallen back to her sides, as if someone had just cut the strings that held them in place. Sighing, Chrom made a decision. "I think I'm going to have to talk to him. Come with me."

A flash of despair passed in the dark eyes of Rutherford and she stepped back, trying her best not to look so miserable. "Sorry, Chrom, I will not. I already told him he was dead for me, so what he's doing…  
>- … Hurts you still." The tall man was not fooled by her pretending. Still, he relented, understanding that she maybe had not the strength to face her former friend. Smiling reassuringly, he asked his spirit to go with her and make sure she would come home unharmed. The petite woman had, for a long time, been afraid to walk alone after what happened at the end of the tournament. "Chrom…<br>- Go home and take care of the twins. I was a fool to think the silence treatment would be enough to change him.  
>- But…" She tried her best to stop him from stepping inside the house, but he brushed her off with another smile, which soon turned into a frown.<p>

"Don't worry."

Leaving her in his spirit's care, he pushed open the large wooden door, startling the couple as he did so. Nichrom, an annoyed look taking over his features as he recognized the intruder, stepped forward. Marion, despite staying as emotionless as ever, was somehow flustered, a pinkish hue hovering over her cheeks. The younger of the two Paches protested, "Brother, what are you doing?"

Without answering, Chrom walked towards them until he was face-to-face with his sibling, and, giving a stern, cold look to the petite blonde at his side, told her: "Mari-chan, you know I like you, but get out. Now." The blond-haired DollMaster blinked at him. "Now," he repeated, and Marion complied slowly, her hands clutching on Chuck as she went. Chrom waited until the door was closed before talking:

"You're an adult now Nic. I know that. But – it's not because you're an adult that you must be a barbaric fool. What you did to Ruthie – what you still do to her now – it has to stop. Very soon.  
>- Or else? She was the one to end the relationship we were not even having in the first place.<br>- So you thought it would be the perfect punishment to go around and make out with random girls?"

Nichrom scowled, protesting: "Marion is not random." That didn't amuse his brother. "But you don't love her."

He frowned, unable to stop himself from looking guilty and confused. "What would you know?  
>- Don't lie."<p>

They stared at each other, neither of them willing to back down from the silent fight. In the end, Nichrom looked away, his voice growing to a shout: "Fine! I am not in love with Marion. But she is! And I think that's enough. I will not wait forever for that stupid girl who thinks she's better than –"

_Smack._

Nichrom blinked, one hand coming to rest on his bruised cheek. Chrom shook his head, and headed back towards the door. At the last second, he added: "You were her best friend."

Nichrom, slightly recovering from his shock, replied harshly: "She was mine, too. And she broke our relationship. She was the one responsible.  
>- I'm sorry then, if you think so. I guess me dying left you so alone that you became this heartless, pointless guy I have right before my eyes. But, tonight you should think for a while. Not only of what I said, but also what you did. To both Rutherford and Marion. Good-bye, brother."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 19:56.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – King's apartments.**

"Mama…"

Hane was sitting on her bed, persisting on taking little blocks and letting them fall on the floor. The constant noise was the only thing that broke through the deafening silence that had appeared after the albino's last sentence. The two adults were staring at each other, faces kept in check as if any emotion given away could signify their downfall. The brown-haired child, unaware of the tension that had risen in the air, began to try and get her mother's attention. Said mother looked away from Hao and stepped back to the child: "Hush, darling. Time to sleep. Tomorrow we'll work a bit, right? We did not do much today."

The child let her last toys fall on the floor, pouting. "Rya sleep with Hane!"

Jeanne blinked, then passed a reassuring hand through her daughter's hair, visibly searching for something to say that the child could understand. "Today Rya is… Elsewhere. Shamash can help you sleep, if you want."

Hane blinked right back, a blank look passing on her features. "Mash is not Rya."

Patiently, Jeanne nodded. "No, he's not Rya."

Hane frowned, as if trying to understand what it was that her mother meant. Said mother tensed up, fearing a tantrum, but the child seemed too tired to do such a thing. Finally, seemingly reaching a conclusion, the brown-haired child said: "… Hane wants Rya, but sleep with Siglen."

Jeanne frowned, which did not go unnoticed. So he wasn't the only one to not know about this curious fellow, mused Hao. Nevertheless, the albino smiled at her daughter, and nodded gently, kneeling up to gather her daughter's pencils. Hane fell back on the mattress, snuggling under the covers while mouthing words neither Jeanne nor Hao understood. After a while, her breaths became regular – sure sign that the child had fallen asleep – and the albino stood. "… You did not say anything. Is that finally enough for you to let us go?" She had turned her head toward him, and her voice was held low, in order not to wake the barely asleep child. For a while she wondered if Hao had heard her. The brown-haired Shaman seemed lost in his thoughts, his furyoku flickering around him unchecked as his dark eyes rested on the young girl. He stared at Hane for a moment before looking at her, keeping his face unreadable as he scanned the albino's face for any trace of emotion. "Are you even sure of what you are saying?"

A bit confused, Jeanne frowned, her eyes narrowing as she shrugged: "About what? The fact that she's not a Shaman? How could one be sure of anything? She could be a genius I would not know. She has never displayed any Hyoi Gattai nor Over Soul, and she never understood when I tried to teach her, so I think she's not a Shaman. But, as I for one can't read her mind, I don't know. Ironic much though, right? The daughter of the two most powerful Shamans happening to be a pure human," she finished with what seemed to be pride, in a very twisted way. He was quick to answer though.

"Stop saying such things if you're not certain." His tone was fairly harsh, in a way she had a hard time analyzing. There was of course a simple reason to what she understood as denial, but for the first time she considered that he maybe did not care about the child at all, which would mean that he'd have no problem killing her off – that she would not allow. But as time passed in silence, with her staring at him and him at her, she began to doubt it. Her stare got harsher, despise and loathing roaming around her crimson irises. Chuckling ironically, she said softly: "Of course, once again, that would be a disaster for you, to have no suitable heir – since that's why you came back to us, I presume…  
>- You sure are exhausting, Jeanne," he interrupted, in a somewhat annoyed tone. The albino blinked blankly at him before retorting swiftly: "You sure are too, Hao. That's why, if you insist on keeping me here, I ask where I should sleep. Because you don't expect me to sleep with you, right?"<p>

He laughed, and ruffled her hair, not caring when she flinched under his touch. "Still the same as ever. As you want to know dear – no. I don't intend on forcing you in my bed. In fact I was counting on the fact that soon enough, _you_'ll be the one to come at me."

Her crimson eyes narrowed at what he implied, and she was quick to snap, fiery and hardly keeping her voice low: "Keep dreaming. If you don't know, I'll just sleep here with her. I don't want her to wake up alone again -  
>- Shush. Your room is just across the hallway, you'll be the first to know whether she's awake or not."<p>

And with that, he silenced her. By his tone, she knew any further discussion would only lead to a fight, and she'd enough of it for the day.

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 22:12.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Throne room.**

Hao was sitting near the windows, his legs crossed. His coal eyes gazed at Byrth with something like pride, but it didn't stop him from listening to his furious lieutenants. As always, their currently most important issue was the X-Laws – or whatever they called themselves these days. Now that he had Jeanne, he was on his way to destroying this last shard of resistance, but any help would be welcome, all the more if it could entertain him.

"We need to get rid of them," growled Kanna. "I got a report from Boris – they've been attacked. Again. Second time this week, third this month. And they're getting better. Ashiru barely made it, from what I've heard from his team. Do you have any idea of how tiresome it is? We cannot hurt the former X-Laws, but maybe we could do like we did with Marco. Lure them into a trap and get them behind bars. The problem is that they're cautious since we caught their so-called strong leader. 'T will be hard to ensure a capture," stepped in Kanna, chewing absently on a non-lit cigarette.

"I may know a way." The attention that was immediately given to the young woman that had just returned from the X-Laws' headquarters made said woman stop and cower, intimidated. Hao quickly scanned her thoughts, remembering that she was an undercover spy had nearly been discovered and made a run for her life… She was also one of Luchist's apprentices' sister. The two were somewhat weak Shamans compared to Hao's lieutenants, but, hey, 100,000 levels were supposed to be rare for a good reason.

"Go on," allowed Hao, bemused by the way the blond woman that stood behind Kanna was similar to her brother. How tedious she was to the always quick to snap blue-haired witch, he could not help to wonder. The German woman hated hesitations and manners – surely she did not go along very well with that little sketch of a woman…

Luchist took off from there, seeing that Lyanne was struggling to find a polite way to introduce her idea. "Meene. Kanna's little spy there," there, he gestured towards the blond woman, who was still uneasily standing behind Kanna, "Lyanne told us on the way that she's still mourning Marco, and their son is constantly asking for his father. If we made it so that his tracker leaded to a place far away from here, maybe she would come." Hao studied the young woman. Despite her obvious fear of Kanna, she stood her ground quite well. The brown-haired king smiled mysteriously before hearing the voice of another Shaman, who had stood silent since the beginning of the meeting: "But she will know it's a trap."

The chocolate irises of Hao shifted towards the one who just spoke. If Lyanne had no reaction when hearing the Shaman's words, Kanna and Luchist were another story. The former priest's diplomatic smile widened, as always when he was annoyed, and Kanna's frown hardened. Hao's former teammates had some defiance towards the purple-haired Shaman – not that the Shaman King could not understand it. It was only logical, given that they knew who he was, why he was still alive and his real motivation for having accepted Hao's proposal.

"She will not be able to make sure of that, and that's how we'll get her," counterattacked Kanna. "She won't resist the idea that _maybe_ he is dying alone, hiding from us."

The Shaman King toyed with the idea for a while. This way of thinking was more Jeanne's than Meene's; but, at the same time – from what he had ever caught when listening to the Canadian girl… Yes. It would work. He nodded absently, almost dismissing his soldiers, before blinking up and adding: "And if you ever come across Jeanne, don't you ever tell her a _word_ of this, or let her deduce anything. Be it of Marco or our plan. Am I making myself clear enough?"

He was staring at Luchist. The priest nodded and exited the room, followed by Kanna and Lyanne. As Ren did not move, the brown-haired Shaman teased, a smirk forming on his features. "No news of your precious fortune-teller? I think she left you. Maybe she preferred Lyserg – always seemed that way to me."

Amber eyes blinked up to him, narrowing as he spoke, having issues not to snap. "No I didn't find her, and no I don't care.  
>- Then go with them. Maybe she'll come with the Canadian girl, you never know !" The Tao didn't react, exiting the room by another corridor. Hao let out a short-lived laugh.<p>

"I think this little stunt is coming to an end… Perfect."

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday. October tenth. 23:34.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**X-Laws headquarters.**

Meene sighed as she took out her long, white mantle and folded it before sinking in one chair of her living room. Noticing a blond head peeking out of the couch, she managed to gather enough voice to say, loud enough so he would understand: "Go to sleep 'Tony."

The blond-haired child was startled, and he rose his head to look at his mother before pouting and pointing to his book. "I just want to finish!  
>- You'll finish tomorrow," she retorted, "you're only awake now because Tamao and Kevin showed you the sky. Antonio, I'm not joking…<br>- Mom, you're so mean," replied the child when passing before her to get his good-night kiss. While doing so, she lightly touched his arm.

"Don't you dare use such tricks on me, or think of reading under your covers. It's late, way too late for you, Antonio.  
>- Okay."<p>

The blondie let out a long sigh before departing to his room. The light tapping of his bare feet against the ground made his mother smile, and she stayed in a sort of dazed state until someone interrupted her rather brutally, breaking into her apartments. "Sorry to bother you Meene –"

Lyserg. The green-headed boy – man, now, he had grown since the first time she'd seen him – seemed distressed, his fists closed tightly and his cheeks a paler shade than she ever remembered seeing on him. Frowning, she made a move to stand, but finally decided against it and only asked, lacking motivation: "What is it Lyserg?"

Surely it was not really important, more like Saati wanted sleeping pills again and the dowser knew she wouldn't agree – but in this case, it would have been Jareth and not Lyserg, as the surgeon was supposed to be in charge of the relation between the princess and the rest of the X-Laws – or that there was yet another fight between two Shamans. That was more likely –

"Someone ran away."

She snapped back to reality, her eyes gaining a new spark of worry. "What?  
>- One of the healers. Lyanne Triff, she was under my watch and… It was a spy. I believed her to be on our side, but…"<p>

His evident hesitation made her frown, and she interrupted the stuttering young man: "There's something you're not telling me there."

Lyserg blinked up to meet her gaze, an helpless look washing over his features. Taking a moment to reorganize his thoughts, he finally admitted: "I – I sort of liked her. But that made no change for me, I checked again and again to make sure she was 'not' one of his people… But when we got attacked, I had to help, and so I locked her into my private rooms – where there's nothing dangerous for us, of course – and when I returned… She had managed to escape, and the others told me their chambers had been 'visited'." The somewhat harsh look that swan into Meene's olive eyes made him cringe. "I'm so sorry."

"How bad is it?" If her voice was held tight and controlled, Meene was already glancing at the room around them, noticing for the first time the small changes, which she had previously mistaken for Antonio's doings. This woman had stepped in there. She may have seen her private room, still filled with Marco's belongings, exactly how he had left them, she may have _touched _these – and, worse, that woman may have been close to Antonio, she may have _talked_ to him… An urge to run to the younger's room grew in her stomach, to wake him up, make sure he was alright, and that he had not _disappeared_ as his father had.

Lyserg's hesitation brought her back to reality. "I don't know… The others told me they hadn't much that could interest Hao, but I don't know about you, and…" Another, heavier hesitation stopped him. "She… she might know about the secret."

Meene's voice rose, laced with disbelief and worry.

"She _might_? Lyserg, seriously. You're telling me Hao _might_ come here to kill them all?"

A discrete knock on the door interrupted them. Lucky was on the threshold, a disapproving look on his face as he stared at Lyserg; however, the look was quickly gone and the older man stepped in, greeting them: "Hello you two. Well, I was arrogant to think I was the only one to have news for our captain this late, wasn't I?"

Meene's outburst had been stopped right as she had seen the other X-Law. Sinking back into her chair, not facing the two men, she passed a hand on her forehead before voicing her thoughts, hoping it wasn't bad news again."Say, Lucky. What's up?"

The man seemed to ponder whether or not saying it directly would do greater damages. Still, he knew the woman wouldn't let him go now that he'd come here, so he spoke, scanning Meene's whole attitude to analyze her reaction. "Marco's tracker moved."

Meene's heart almost ceased to beat as she heard and understood the words. Her olive eyes widened and her head spun around to look at him and find the cruel joke – but there was none. Her mouth opened, as in need of air, and she mouthed several words before simply muttering: "What?"

The way she reacted told Lucky everything he needed to know. He had made a mistake by coming to see here so late in the evening. She was hardly thinking rationally anymore, and it did not help that Lyserg had delivered his news at the same time. Said Lyserg, though, frowned and went to help his older friend: "Wait. A spy runs off from here and Marco does exactly the same from there? I don't believe in coincidences."

Agreeing whole-heartedly, Lucky added: "It's too late to call the others for a reunion, but promise me you won't go looking for him alone, Meen'. Know that it could be – it is surely – a trap. And _you_ are our leader now, okay? So don't do anything stupid. Think of Antonio. Think of Marco. He would scold you for doing this.  
>- No, Lucky," she absently objected, "if it was my tracker, or really anyone else's, he would have gone and rescued him or her himself, alone, without even telling us, and you know that.<br>- Yeah," smiled the older, "you're probably right, our four-eyed former boss was incredibly stubborn when he wanted. But you're not Marco. And we won't bear the loss of another captain."

Meene nodded, a pale smile on her lips.

"Don't worry. I can manage."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Hao:<span> ***mimicks* 'Don't worry I can manage!' *laughs*

**Jeanne:** ... *Shamash: Attack!*

**Rain:** No fighting here kiddos. I've gotta go to bed.

**Hao&Jeanne:** ... *silence* ... *SoF & Shamash: Attack!"

**Rain: **I said no fi... OH GOSH *flies*


	7. Sparks and wisps

**Chapter VII: Sparks and wisps  
><strong>

**Author:** Rain**  
><strong>

**Disclaimer:** Shaman King belongs to H. Takei. My plot, interpretations, characters are mine. Beware, I bite.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. October eleventh. 04:21.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle.**

Despite the early hour, Jeanne was already awake, unable to sleep long in that unfriendly place. Sitting near the large window of the room Hao had _kindly_ offered her, she was letting her gaze wander off in the night. Beyond the dark towers of the great castle of Mû could be seen seemingly never-ending and peaceful blue seas – the former Pacific Ocean. If she tried hard enough she could even see the waves breaking and licking the castle's shore. The moonlight was dim, its rays rare; an oppressing, overwhelming feeling came off the dark, looming castle. An overly dramatic scenery for an over-dramatic situation. The darkness, the danger – she couldn't take any of it seriously.

Jeanne still had a hard time believing what had happened the day before, which was probably why she had been so sharp, so foolish. It was still too much to take. Her mind just blankly refused to believe her memory, the years having dulled the instincts of survival acquired before and during the tournament. To think only three days ago she'd been carelessly wandering in the freezing forests that surrounded the lake, to think she heard a wolf howl to the moon and thought it was a good omen… A good omen indeed. She chuckled bitterly. The sounds echoed within the large room without startling her, harmless noise that at least provided a false but welcomed sense of company.

Everything was so… Silent. But Jeanne, being who she was, knew well that there were different kinds of silence; and this one was maybe the worst. The uncomfortable stillness of the ship had been harsh; the overwhelming calm of the Baïkal Lake had been oddly comforting; but this silence… This silence spelled her defeat. No, it did worse than that, it wrote her defeat and spat it to her face. She felt out of place; out of time even. To her this room was more of a prison than her previous home ever could, however isolated and lonely it had been to raise her child with only two spirits to help. This was for sure a golden cage, but a cage nonetheless, and her younger self would have felt it insulting that he should think she'd like it. Jeanne wasn't someone he could buy with such riches… But he probably knew it. At least she hoped so.

At the very least he hadn't forced her to sleep in his room. Yet. She could already tell he was trying to accustom her to his presence, that he was willing to act as Hane's father (however twisted his ideas on the role were) and thus as her… Husband? (Lover wasn't the good word for sure). The brown-haired King's intentions weren't that clear to her, but that much was obvious. And she hated it. His mirth and confidence were too much to bear for the defeated woman.

The fancy outfits he probably expected her to wear, the large bed and its silken sheets, everything down to the richly decorated cushions she had been forced to push away to sit on the marble-like window – everything screamed of her failure, her treachery, her cowardliness. Things were never supposed to turn out this way. All this arrogant splendor, this luxury despite the barren wastelands screaming of the absence of humans… This shouldn't exist.

"_I_ shouldn't exist," she whispered, feeling herself fall back within the realm of sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. October eleventh. 07:02.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle.**

The second time she opened her eyes, her crimson irises were greeted by gentle, warming sunshine. Outside, rays of light were splashing on the waves and clouds, giving the scenery rosy undertones. Genuinely eager to inch closer to the window, she tried to move her limbs… Without much success.

It wasn't until now that she realized how warm she felt. Not an inner warmth, mind you; more like she was surrounded by something… someone… Who emitted said warmth. Shaking her head, the albino chased away the last remnants of sleep to truly understand her current situation. As she darted her head on every side, she soon took in the cargo pants and the strong tanned legs underneath, abandoned on each side of her own, the hands joined on her stomach, the glimpses of amaranth cloth… "Stop moving about so much."

Jeanne was almost too surprised to react, though she shouldn't have, really. She should know he'd try and take advantage of every little thing he could; he was always the headstrong one. However, Jeanne hadn't imagined he'd be delusional enough to think she'd give in his games. "Let me go, Hao.  
>- No. I'm trying to gain my rest.<br>- Your bed would have done just as well," she protested, trying in vain to free herself from the hold of his arms. Purely to spite him, she let her nails slash his tanned skin as she went on: "I am no teddy bear."

He chuckled against her hair, his furyoku already healing the shallow cuts she was making. The fierce girl of the tournament seemed to peek through the defeated, hateful woman he'd seen sooner, and that certainly pleased him. Of course, he wouldn't say it that way, not to her and not so soon; but he couldn't hide a gleeful grin.

In front of his amused silence, the albino found herself puzzled. Still trying to untangle herself from him, she spoke up, irony seeping through her tone: "Why would you even need rest? What could upset our almighty Shaman King?  
>- Don't you have the slightest idea?"<p>

Ah, this antic of him to never speak things directly. He just 'had' to phrase it in a weird way, didn't he? Finally giving in for the time being (though her body remained tense and upright), she turned to face him, her eyebrows raised in contempt.

"News are hard to come by in the permafrost, you know.  
>- Well you might like to know your angels are safe and sound and causing me much more trouble than they ever seem able to during the tournament.<br>- You always underestimated Marco and the others." A sort of melancholic smile touched her features before vanishing as she reminded herself of who and where she was.

A pause. Absently, the brunette played with the fabric of her nightgown, his fingers leaving a ghostly trail of warmth across her stomach. "_Marco_, yes. That little blondie of yours was always such a thorn in my paws."

His phrasing made her frown. "Was?"

He chortled, casually hiding away his slip. "Was, is, whatever. You don't have any further enquiries about the well-being of that family of yours?" Though he kept his hold on the albino, a hand came up to brush away strands of her hair. If he had learned one thing about her it was that she didn't manage well when it came to physical contact – which meant it was just what he needed to destabilize her. And, indeed, she paused for a few minutes, her frown increasing as she chased his hand away, snapping shortly: "I don't take you as a reliable source."

That earned an almost honest smile. "Too bad, too bad. You might be interested in knowing that you have a step-brother."

She froze in his hold. Her past tension was nothing compared to the stillness that had overwhelmed her. "A step…  
>- Brother, yes. I think he's… Eight, or nine years old? I don't remember his name. He looks awfully like your blondie. Who, by the way, passes a heck of lot of time with him, making sure he never gets hurt or things like that. Seems a bit gaga to me."<p>

He didn't speak after this. It was not necessary. What he needed now was just to plant the seeds of doubt in her weary mind. With a last, languid caress to her stomach, he let her go, which she gladly did. Avoiding his gaze, the albino hopped off the window and crossed the room in a hurry she could not control: "I'll just – I'll just go and fetch Hane."

Her tone, her body language – the first step of his plan seemed to have worked better than he expected.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. October eleventh. 10:23.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle.**

"Can I try? Just this one time?"

Jeanne was 'very' reluctant to let another person disturb Hane, however 'skilled with children' Hao deemed her to be, however kind and harmless she appeared. She wouldn't trust anyone in this castle. "Our Lord said he didn't want you to be alone to deal with this, and he knows you don't want him around. I promise you I won't do anything harmful, you can stay if you like." Of course she would stay. She wasn't about to leave her child with anyone. Keeping a very stubborn though very silent dislike of the situation, Jeanne let the woman follow her in.

Lyanne was quite nervous, but not as much as she could have. She knew she was good at taking care of children; and this mission was nothing compared to sneaking into the rebels' headquarters. At least she wouldn't end up dead. Well, supposedly. The albino before her seemed to be highly anxious and strong enough to destroy her at the slightest mistake.

The child was quite perplexed. Though she had already been there, it seemed she was not used to the place, and the way she clutched the plush told clearly to Jeanne that she was not far from throwing a tantrum 'again'. The albino was already walking up to her, with in her mind the need to comfort her daughter, when Lyanne somewhat recklessly stopped her.

"If I'm to help you, I can't have you stepping in all the time. I understand that there was no other choice but to shelter her, but learning to deal with other people, however uncomfortable it might be for both of you, is necessary." The blonde woman had wisely avoided the term 'painful', though she knew it might be so; but given the albino's behavior she was to take extra precautions not to be violently slaughtered by the worried mother.

Jeanne, on the other hand, was doing her best not to think 'too' much about what Hao had said. The idea that Marco had a child (with Meene? It was the most obvious possibility, so surely it was with her) ignited a confused mix of selfish and selfless feelings – but she didn't trust herself to sort that out just yet. At that point she was far too emotional to do so.

Unaware of what was running through the albino's mind, Lyanne had slowly stepped up to the bed, on which Hane was busy carefully coloring a picture. The picture in itself was strikingly good; it was a very detailed and colorful headshot of a wolf. The blond woman waited for a few moments without being noticed, then quietly sat down on the bed. The mattress gave way slightly, disturbing Hane, whose head rose from the drawing.

The child looked for a long minute at Lyanne, then quickly threw a glance towards her mother, then back to the blonde woman. She frowned lightly, gripping her pen so tight it ripped through the paper sheet.

That started it. Hane shrank away and howled, her eyes flaring with anger. For a moment, neither of the two women could understand her words. "You're not Rya," was saying the child, her hands flailing about as she frowned. "You're not Rya!  
>- See," interrupted Jeanne, distressed by her daughter's behavior. "Thank you for trying but I don't think this is a good idea. I will handle her myself."<p>

Lyanne looked up, her gaze harshening. "You of all people should know how hard it is to interact with her. Let me seriously try before going all protective and threatening on me." After a pause, she went on: "I don't – I don't agree on lot of things done here, Lady Jeanne. Me and my brother were lucky to be good enough Shamans to survive Lord Hao's coronation; we serve him in return, that's all. I usually help Miss Rutherford with the children around here, but if I can be of any support with Hane, I won't hesitate." Lyanne's smile seemed honest. And connections with Rutherford… Though Jeanne hadn't seen her since the tournament, she remembered her as a kind-hearted, virtuous girl. Rutherford would, hopefully, help, if the albino trusted herself to be strong enough to meet again with someone of her past.

Jeanne was not by any mean ready to trust anyone, much less anyone sent by _Hao_ of all people, but at this moment, she acknowledged that, _maybe_, her situation could improve.

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. October eleventh. 08:12.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**X-Laws Headquarters.**

"I don't believe that we're arguing over such a thing."

Her voice was not trembling. No, it was soft and decided, almost peaceful – though her friends could easily see in her strained way of rearranging and gripping the documents she held that she was not peaceful at all. Meene did not look good, no; she looked weary, and hopeful, and not reasonable. Dangerous combination, which every male present in the room mutely decided to (try to) change as quickly as possible.

John was the first to react out loud to her statement. "I agree. It's a trap so obvious I almost feel insulted they instigated it. Do they take us for mindless rabbits?" His attempt was praiseworthy, but his humor fell flat as Meene understandably gave him a harsh look.

"I meant that if there's a possibility, however small, that Marco _may_ be there, we can't be arguing over whether or not we're going. But I do understand that you wouldn't risk falling into a trap, so I'll go. I'll just take two Shamans I trust with me."

The blond man, whom she had hoped to silence for a while, grunted loudly. "I hope you're joking, Meen' – I mean _Captain_," he rectified as he saw her expression, "we're not letting you fall head first and alone.  
>- If, and I mean <em>if<em>, we do go and check whether Marco is there, we won't just send three Shamans, however skilled they are." Christopher's voice was calm. Though the other Archangels could easily pick the slight hints of worry in his tone, he meant not to put his own emotions in the equation. All that he tried to do was calmly convince Meene that it would be folly to achieve her plan.

"We can't risk sending too many people to plainly die, Christopher!  
>- We can't risk sending you directly into Hao's clutches, Meene.<br>- This," interrupted Kevin's low voice, "shouldn't be discussed by us, especially you." She was going to interrupt him, but a pointed look and a raised hand stopped her. "However concerned you - we – are concerned by Marco's fate, we are too close to him. We can't be objective. Nevertheless, things _can_ be done. As responsible of the operations and the lost, John and Lucky can ask their subordinates to plan an achievable operation. Porf will help. Then, and only then will we move. If Marco is there, we'll retrieve him."

His long speech seemed to have effect on the strained Canadian woman. However, after a little while, her eyes went up to meet Kevin's. "How much time? How much time before we secure the operation? If Marco escaped, he's probably wounded, and weak. Without supplies. He'll be dead by the end of the week – if his tracker or furyoku doesn't give his position away to Hao's lackeys. They'll hunt him down and we'll have lost our sole possibility to rescue him.  
>- Meene, I <em>know<em> how bad you feel right now but –  
>- No you don't, Kevin. I'll wait until tomorrow morning. Then I won't hold back."<p>

* * *

><p><strong>Monday. October eleventh. 23:47.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Dungeons.**

"Anna?" A Voice. A Voice that came from far, far away. A Voice that seemed to come from a half-forgotten dream of a dead world.

She felt warm, but not in a good way. More like layers and layers of disgust, hatred, angst were tightly secured around her, overwhelming, chocking her. She could feel her sweat pour from her pores, like a frozen sea of ants devouring her skin. She felt dizzy, confused – she couldn't place the voice she could hear through her fever, couldn't distinguish his features clearly. She wasn't sure why she felt so ill. She was treated well here – as well as she could hope in her situation. The cell wasn't damp, nor cold, nor dirty.

But… But she had been given drugs… Yes, she remembered as much… Drugs for what? She wasn't sure… Had thrown them away in frustration… Ah, yes, it had been just after calling forth Rowana… Maybe… No, she wasn't conscious enough to understand the whys and the hows… Hurt too much… Maybe she should have taken them. Probably, in fact. Why was she always so stubborn?

"Anna!" The Voice was still here, annoying, frustrating. It pestered her. She was quite sure she knew that voice…

"Please, Anna. Look at me. Look at me…" The itako raised her head, feebly, trying to gauge the direction from which came that irritating Voice. The surroundings were blurry and dark. She still couldn't quite place the voice, nor determinate whose features she was facing. Swirls of amaranth caught her eye, and she frowned.

"Ha-Hao…?"

It was a guess, a good one – but though she had intended it to be harshly thrown, it had come out as a mere whimper. What could he be doing here, for heaven's sake…? Hadn't she done everything he wanted her to? She would have thought that, if Rowana hadn't been able to mark Jeanne, he'd leave her in peace – after all it was more likely due to the albino's resistance than her own weakness… A stream of lucidity broke somewhere in her head, and she crawled away, alarmed and suddenly very much aware that something was wrong:

"Why – why are you here?"

The figure paused. He had no uttered a single word since she had responded to him. Already, his mind was mortified that he had dared enter this forbidden place. He had not been able to withstand watching her so ill, so pale, but that didn't give him the right to put in danger his whole family, did it? Warning bells were ringing in his mind. He was quite desperate to let her know. It was more of a need than it had ever been, even when he had first been able to take control of his body. But as much as the brunette wanted to, letting her know was suicide. It would give her false, stupid hopes; and Hao would know, and Hao would destroy the last spark of his consciousness.

The blond woman grasped his kimono, trying weakly to stand up, to reach him, to understand… But she simply couldn't. She was so weak, she felt so tired… Hao – or whoever he was – kneeled and pressed her against his chest, soothing, cradling her. It felt weird. It felt different than Hao… But Anna couldn't think that far. "Be strong, Anna." What… What…? A growing need was erasing her other thoughts as the world spun around her.

"Please…" She was panting from the efforts previously made. "Please, please. I want to see Hana. Please, I want to see him, I'll do anything, please…"

But he was already disengaging himself, he was going, he was gone – leaving Anna alone to fight the fever. Soon, the malicious sickness had stolen her consciousness.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Rain:<span>** FINALLY! They're going to move!

**Hao:** ... That would be your fault.

**Rain:** No it's not. If you passed less time flirting with Baby Maiden I'd have less things to worry about.

**Hao:** ... That would be your fault, too.

**Rain:** *pouts*


	8. Beneath the veil

**Chapter VIII : Beneath the veil  
>Author :<strong> Rain.

**Disclaimer: **SK belongs to Takei.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. October twelveth. 04:38.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**X-Laws Headquarters.**

Bright blue clothes were folded on a chair nearby, and a stray ray of light coming from the corridor fell on his thick glasses. Open and closed books were messily sprayed on the floor, up until the sturdy legs of the bed.

Antonio slept soundly. The child was laying flat on his stomach, his head barely emerging from the covers as he snored slightly. Listening to his respiration, his mother could not hear without worry faint traces of difficulty. He was coming down with a cold, or so it seemed. Such petty things were not petty anymore – without the seemingly endless supplies of human medicine, the rebels relayed on the Healers. And Healers could not heal illnesses, only their physical consequences… Meene had left a note to John, it was pinned on the room's door so that he would know and take measures.

Or so she hoped.

* * *

><p>It was not dawn yet. Countless stars could still be seen up in the sky, and a warm, blinding darkness still wrapped and curled around the X-Laws captain's slender form. Her armor-reinforced uniform hung on her felt oddly comforting. The solid boots she wore came to an abrupt halt as they reached the half-destroyed metallic fence. It had been built by humans, probably to protect some private property, but it now served the X-laws' purpose to delimitate the space where <em>they <em>could move safely, in immediate reach of the headquarters so that, in case of an attack, shelter was immediate. All the survivors were told never to cross it.

But this morning, they were not out. Not yet. This morning, there were only Meene and her companions. Fools that would try to leave and go back to safety.

Suddenly nervous, the brunette turned her head towards her companions. Without counting her, they were four. Four estimable Shamans, each coming from her own training team. People who wouldn't be aware that she wasn't exactly on a secured mission. She had her two personal lieutenants, Nolan and Dresda, two Shamans in their forties. Their furyoku was approximately 80,000, and she probably shouldn't risk them for such a mission, but to take only the weakest was simply leading sheep to slaughter. She couldn't have done it. The other two were minor Shamans, guards she'd told they had been chosen for this mission. Of them, she didn't know much – maybe that was for the better – but their names: a certain John, from the USA, and Kaito, refugee from Japan. Weaker than most, he had been in Australia during the crowning of Hao, and hadn't been spotted before the arrival of the X-Laws. The luck he had seemed impossible (and certainly came from his shamanism), and though Meene wasn't superstitious, every ounce of chance would be taken seriously.

Of course, the little group would not last long in front of Hao or his principal lieutenants, but that would have to do. Any Shaman remotely 'strong' compared to the participants of the tournament was out of question – if captured, they would be an irreplaceable loss. Not that she wouldn't feel guilty and awful if her team ended captured…

… She was making an egoist choice, she knew it, had been up all night to try and find another way. But there was none.

As the last Shaman got out of the tunnel, Meene reviewed the previous events, trying to guess whether they 'could' have forgotten something – though she couldn't see where. They had left their rooms at approximately 2:00 am. They had entered the weaponry, to take ammunition and check their own mediums. They had crawled through one of the secret passages serving as emergency exit, so that no one would take notice of their group.

It had been exhausting, and it was the easy part. Now, they had to cross the ocean, land safely in southern Asia, avoid Hao's teams, arrive early in the place where the tracker indicated still _without_ being attacked, go back the same way and enter the headquarters without being noticed. Yeah, right. And that was, 'if' Marco was indeed there, if it wasn't 'completely' a trap – which stayed the strongest possibility. She sighed. This was suicidal…

… Yet again they were still alive after living ten years in the horrendous kingdom of Hao, after fighting and killing off valuable opponents, after hiding the biggest secret of it all. So they had a chance, still. Maybe. Meene sighed, and took a step towards the fence, her gloved hand studying the corroded iron. She would have to repair it, when she would be back. If she were back, that is. The Shaman turned around, ready to give the last orders before they began their trip.

And suddenly, she found herself in front of a certain teenager, whose coral-colored bangs – even partly hidden by the dark hood she wore – rendered unmistakable. Placed between the four soldiers and their commander, she stood still, arms crossed. She was obviously clothed to travel, and fight if necessary, noted the brunette upon catching the glint of the small pocket gun in her holster.

"Tamao…? What are you doing here?  
>- You should go back inside miss," nodded Nolan, seeing his commander's obvious unease. "This is a classified mission. You shouldn't be awake at this hour."<p>

The teenager shook her head, a determined look on her face, though the darkness made it hard to see. The slightly glowing wings of Michael flapped near her shoulder. "I'm coming along. I owe it to him, Meene, and I owe it to you too."

The former X-Law shook her head, feeling bemused and slightly guilty that she should bring that up. "How did you hear about this?  
>- Michael," answered Tamao, appearing calmer than ever. "And don't even try to leave me here. I'll go and warn the others, you'll be caught before you even leave the continent. I can defend myself," she growled as Kaito and Nolan's hands fell to their holsters, ready to shut off this threat to their commander. Meene stopped them, before turning pleading eyes towards the youngster:<p>

"Tamao…  
>- Please," she opposed, "I just want to help. Is it so wrong?"<p>

The brunette eyed her companion. She had grown, both in strength and height. She 'could' be an help; what made her hesitate was more the risks than the girl. And, like always since Marco's capture, it would be her decision. The others would obey, they were under her command.

After letting another sigh bubble up her lips, the brunette signified to her companions they were going. Tamao smiled to herself, hidden in her long clothes, and followed. Their destination was still a long way ahead of them…

Meene looked once at the tracker's location, which was near former New York, now nightmarish place where metal had solidified like vitrified sand on the ground. The ruins of the buildings were invaded by vines and wild animals. Such images had come to them as they fled through America with their precious… _companions_. If they had been searched, even once… No. No thinking of such dark possibilities now. She was going to find Marco. She'd bring him back. And everything would be okay again.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. October twelveth. 10:21.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth - Castle.**

Hao's nails clicked lightly against the arm of his throne as he watched somewhat absently the small group of Shamans standing before him. Though his overall expression was unreadable, flames danced in his eyes – and that was enough to warn them not to infuriate him further.

Though, they were not here for nothing, and soon a man – Boris – cleared its throat.

"There has been movement in southern Asia towards Europe and the tracker. Small, as if they were trying to be as discreet as possible – they were less than a dozen, I think – but that would indicate she took the bait.  
>- Plus I've got two Shamans wounded and one dead. They were patrolling in Russia. They've probably taken a longer route, probably not to be seen too easily," stepped in Luchist, in that uninterested though interesting voice of his. He was probably the most concerned by the X-Laws girl; pretending he was not could fool lots, but not his master. Ah, some never learned.<p>

"The flows didn't change much," continued the vampire. "I'd say most have less than a hundred thousand points of energy, and there's one with 150,000. Probably our target. But they hid too well to be tracked down.

Hao's eyes flickered to him, but he didn't seem to be looking at him. More like he was only there in body, his soul wandering elsewhere. For a while, nothing happened. Then, the brunette's unconcerned if soft voice echoed in the room:

"Who do you want with you, Luchist?"

The elder paused, evaluating his needs and options. Then, confidently, he replied: "Seeing how weak they are, I think that Ren, Ashiru and Clay should do.  
>- Then it's settled," nodded the king before dismissing his troops with a wave of his hand. Hao watched them go, before letting his stare wander off to an undefined point in the middle of nowhere. This little scheme didn't matter much to him (though it really should have). He had another, more pressing matter at hand.<p>

Blanks were not very common to him. He had an incredible memory – which made him even more annoyed that he couldn't remember bits of his last night, though he hadn't drank, hadn't been drugged (who would dare?), hadn't took anything that could make things vanish from his memory. Frustrating.

Plus he had to move Marco to a lower floor – where he was before, the noise he made allowed one to spot him easily, and with Jeanne in the palace grounds he wouldn't want that. At least knocking him out had been a small relief. Eh, small pleasures. But it hadn't been enough to sate his impatience. The brunette had waited for _years_ – a decade now – to wipe the X-Laws from the earth and become god almighty. Now that all the people needed to do just that were in place, he couldn't help but wish he could make time hurry up a bit.

Hopping off his throne, the brunette decided to go and see the children. Always helped him stop thinking. He'd stop to talk to Rutherford, and maybe Chrom too, to see if Hana and the others' training went well. Yeah, he'd do that.

* * *

><p>Light was splattered across Byrth's polished streets, warming up the lean body of the Shaman King as he reached his destination. The brunette smiled upon entering the humble house in which the tenth Pache tried to educate both spiritually and mentally the youngsters of the city.<p>

"Hello Rutherford," he smirked allegedly. Taken by surprise, the Indian girl stopped mid-sentence, her bangs flying as she raised her head. As she recognized the King, some mixed apprehension and respect washed over her features. Quickly, she bowed. "Good morning, Hao-sama."

"Good morning Shaman King" came like a wave from the assembly of teenagers and children. The youngest was Hana. His spiky golden hair was unmistakable, sure sign of who his mother was – and the arrogant stare he was badly hiding showed well whose bloodline he was from. Strong kid. Apart from him, there were the two Pache twins, the Munzer kids and Opachô. Those were all teenagers now, which he found oddly amusing when most should have been dead – be it from human ire or his own.

"I didn't mean to interrupt a lesson. Please continue," gestured the brunette, sitting on an empty chair. The dark-skinned girl nodded, somewhat taken aback, and returned to her explanations. Though the girls returned to the lesson quickly, the boys were another story – he could see Opachô fidgeting, wanting to rush to him and speak of all new things he'd discovered today, but also the defiant stare of Reoseb and the curious but smug look of Hana. Boys. Bah, when they'd be older he'd test them, and arrogance would be separated from logical pride.

Rutherford's voice was soft, and the Shaman King found himself somewhat lulled in, though he couldn't precisely say what she was talking about. Healing techniques, he thought. Something among those lines. Hao liked that in the Pache girl, that ability to captivte without even raising her voice – though he should have admitted that he liked the presence of girls in general.

Opachô's impatient eyes found themselves glued to the clock, and when it showed 12:00 exactly, he shot up at a bullet's speed, zooming to the brown-haired Shaman. Rutherford let out a small sigh and stopped speaking, letting the small cluster of children stand from their chairs.

While entertaining the hyper energetic teenager, Hao nodded to the young teacher of sorts. Rutherford gulped and walked over, standing before the brunette. "How are you?"

A tilt of her head. Her dark eyes, much like his own, didn't show much as she replied: "Fine, thank you Hao-sama.  
>- … I want the real version, Rutherford."<p>

She paused. "I feel a bit… Alone, I guess. But that's not important.  
>- On the contrary," countered Hao. "I do not want people of your importance to feel bad here, be it from… Let us say <em>emotional<em> reasons. Feel free to come to me at any time."

The Amerindian girl bit her lip. Clay. That scrawny sneaky boy. She was lucky she hadn't fallen right into that trap. "Do not bother to worry about me, Hao-sama. I am fine." He raised an eyebrow, and then finally nodded. "On more practical matters I was only here to check whether you were managing those Shamans, but you seem to do it just fine. I'll go now – See you tonight, Opachô," smiled again the Shaman King, and gone he was.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. October twelveth. 19:34.<strong>**  
><strong>**Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.****  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle.**

Jeanne's simple shoes did not make the slightest sound as she walked somewhat aimlessly down the long and dim-lighted corridors of the palace. The young adult marveled at how easy it would be to get lost in there. Every sharp turn, every heavy wooden door looked the exact same as the previous ones. Plus, that old, dark grey stone gave off a cold, unfriendly feeling that crept around her and made her hair stand on their ends – she _really _didn't like this place.

The albino's hands rubbed her shoulders, as if to create some comfort. It was weird, she thought, that she could feel so cold that her blood felt like chunks of ice _now_, when she'd lived in iced lands. Well maybe it wasn't as much weird but nerve-wrecking. She couldn't even begin to think about her situation without getting chills all over.

Oxygen seemed to rarefy itself, and she had to breathe through her mouth to shake off the impression. Her footsteps gained a new speed as she turned in yet another corridor, exactly similar to the previous one. She was probably lost, but she couldn't bring herself to stop and reason with herself – all that occupied her spirit was the anxiety, drowning all the rest into a thick fog.

The young woman spun on her heels. Nausea seized her stomach. She had to get out of there, she had to escape those endless halls and empty corridors. Should have stayed with Hane, even if Lyanne didn't want her to. Anything would have been preferable to this feeling of doom. Even Hao – no, maybe not, but at that point she preferred to think so - would be better than being alone in this place. Though the brunette was insufferable and cocky and dangerous, he managed to actually make her think of _something else_ than the reason all of this existed. Partly, but that was more than most.

Shamash, on her side, emitted a low warning noise, and she had barely the time to retreat between the wall and a large curtain, strategically placed behind a statue, before she heard it. Voices.

She stayed still, o so very still, almost stopping to breathe. The petite woman could hear people quietly talking to themselves. Echoes of their words bounced off the walls like shards of glass, each more deformed and sharp than the other, soon accompanied with footsteps. They were coming nearer. After a few seconds, even in the dim light, she could make out the tall, dark-clothed form of Luchist, along with someone looking quite like Lyanne, and someone else. A third person who shouldn't have been there – who couldn't be there – someone she never thought she'd see again – Ren Tao. Yet again, there were lots of people she thought she'd never see again.

But to see him _here,_ untied, walking in that assured way of his… Her stomach churned. A traitor. But suddenly, a pang of unknown feeling tugged at her guts – and she realized that she had no right to judge him. She had done the same, if in a different way.

She muffled a sigh, afraid – no, not afraid, but – that they would hear her. Slightly, she backed up until she was practically buried behind the large, burgundy curtain. Agonizingly slowly, they passed her, and her anxiety almost drowned their words. Still, a fleeting, floating sound shook her from her barriers. Oh, it was very simple, almost like a swift breeze –

_Meene_. She couldn't have said who uttered it, nor what had followed. Some time passed, and Jeanne didn't move until she could no longer hear footsteps nor voices. But if she was physically paralyzed, her brain was in overdrive.

_Meene_. What business could they have with her? What interest could they –he, since a mission couldn't be given by anyone but Hao himself – hold in the lone woman standing in the others' shadows? Could – could it have a link with Marco's son? Hn.

She really didn't like the impression looming in that place, and so the small woman let her feet take over. Her mind still wandered in invisible realms. The albino found her way to higher levels, still trying very hard to draw conclusions from the few pieces of information she had managed to grasp.

First things first: Hao's motives. Oh, sure, he liked the idea to have her as his trophy, but that wasn't enough. He was trying to manipulate her – or he wouldn't have spoken of Marco when he clearly did 'not' care nor want her to be reunited with them.

Second, two things that had in appearance nothing to do with each other: Hao's casual slip and that mentioning of Meene. Some shadow seemed to seep through her mind. Something was wrong with the former X-Laws. Someone – Hao – **Hao** had done something to them. They had caused trouble to his little kingdom – that much was easy to decipher. Maybe she should try to sound out Lyanne…

Without noticing, she'd climbed a high flight of stairs, and was now facing a large, black-tainted door. Blinking slightly, she pushed it open without a creak. It appeared empty if gloomy, and she was curious enough to sneak in.

The first thing she noticed was the sound. It was easy to miss, really, but her ear, used to the natural silence of Siberia, caught it. It was low and recurrent, like someone hitting on hollow wood or metal.

Then, as her eyes became used to the darkness, the albino slowly began to make out her environs. There were two ranges of cells surrounding her, which meant… Oh. Lucky her. She just 'had' to find the dungeons, right. Her sole comfort was that they seemed to be empty.

Sighing, she weighted her options. She could go back, sure, and face Hao and Hane and the sheer reality of her present. Maybe she could just check out the sound. Yes, that sounded good. Jeanne walked on. As she did, the noise only became louder, and soon she discovered its source.

Her feet came to a halt. She was in front of a woman approximately her age… Blond-haired, crouched against the bars, banging her head against them, totally unaware of the albino's presence. For a moment, Jeanne stood there, unable to remember the name of the girl of the tournament. "A-_Anna?"_

Crouched against the bars, she was the one making the sound, her head repeatedly banging on them. The blond woman raised her face, dark, unfocused eyes settling on Jeanne. The later could see the tremors of that shook through her.

The elder's gaze fell on Jeanne's white sleeve, which in transparence let appear the glyph Hao had appended on her. Her voice floated to the albino's ears, raw and thirsty and bitter: "So he got you." A bitter smile took over the youngster's face: "Yes, that he did.  
>- "I'm not sorry. It's all your fault." Jeanne's brows creased, her mouth drying incredibly quickly. Trying not to care that much – after all Anna was <em>caged <em>there, it was understandable she would react badly – she had to find a key to open the door – had to… The blond woman broke into a fit of coughs, and Jeanne suddenly realized how pale and sweaty her companion was. Crouching, she passed a hand through the bars and tried to feel her temperature, but she stopped immediately. The heat her hand met was shocking. Jeanne rose and searched for a sign of keys.

Ah, there. The albino almost ran to the panel, her fingers fidgeting with the keys while trying to undo them. Soon she was back at the elder's cell, and the door opened without much difficulties. Anna fell into her arms, thrashing feebly. The blond woman was muttering something her companion had difficulty hearing. And, when it actually got clearer, the albino somewhat wished it didn't:

"Don't blame him. It's your fault. Your fault Yoh died, your fault Hao won, your fault I'm here, your fault they took Hana away. **They took him away,** do you understand? No. Of course not you can't. It's all your fault, it's all your fault…  
>- Anna…<br>- If only the X-Laws hadn't existed. If only they'd gotten killed, at least! Your blondie would not have come here for a stupid reason, and I still would be with Hana!"

Anna was struggling still, almost as if she wanted to return to her cell. And maybe she did – Hao would know and the ensuing disaster would be awful – but her first intent was to _get away_ from this stupid girl who messed up everything. The girl who had stopped trying to check her companion's overall state. The girl on whose lips words of mixed disbelief, shame and… - was it _hope?_ – had erupted like blooming flowers:

"Marco came here?" As Anna did not answer, she shook her lightly, finding her eyes and locking them with hers: "Anna, please. Marco came here?  
>- Of course he'd come, stupid as he is," cried the former Itako. "And he stayed as prisoner while you were off god-knows where!"<p>

Jeanne's mind came to a screeching halt. Marco was there? Marco _was there_? But, but, no. This couldn't be. Hao had promised he wouldn't touch them. He had promised!

But it all matched so perfectly. Hao's lapse, having others mentioning a seemingly not-important X-Law, Anna's words… Hao had broken their bargain. Hao had…

« Now now now, what do we have here ? »

Jeanne turned over, her still-shocked irises turning to slits as she recognized Hao. The place, Anna, their conversation, it had all been too surreal for her to be aware of her surroundings, and thus she hadn't the slightest idea that he was arriving. But now… Instinctively, she rose and stepped up in front of Anna, blocking her from his view, her hands fisting into her dress as her furyoku flared.

"You," she said, and her voice was purer than glass in its rage. "You," she repeated, and despite the burn of the seal neither Hao nor Anna would underestimate the raw energy that seeped through that word.

* * *

><p><strong>Rain :<strong> Yai, things finally move!

**Hao :** Things move? You're sure of that?

**Rain :** Well yes! Jeanne found out about Marco, so she's going to go all-berserk on you and thus things happen! That's so rare in this fic!

**Hao :** And that's a good thing how ?


	9. A meeting between old friends

**Chapter IX : A meeting between old friends  
>Author:<strong> Rain on your Back  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>Shaman King belongs to H. Takei. Nolan, Dresda, Clay and all OCs belong to me.

**The events described in this chapter take place simultaneously with those described in the two next chapters.**

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 10:03<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Abandoned NYC suburb.<strong>

John and Kaito leapt from the quiet darkness of the young trees, weapons in hand, ready to take out the first individual – Shaman or shadow – they'd see. After a long minute used to make sure they were alone, the elder raised an arm, signifying to the rest of the group the place was secure.

Soon enough, the others followed. Meene first, pistol drawn, followed by her two lieutenants and Tamao. The bushes were already quite large and dark, noted the Canadian grimly. Probably they had been helped by the King of Spirits; it was easy to see Hao's work in this human disaster – or nature's one true luck, depending on the side asked.

Tamao and Kaito, the youngest of the group, were the ones whose emotions were the most obvious, but even the Canadian had to admit it was sickening. To think only a decade before, this had been a busy suburb of one of the wealthiest places in the world. Hard to believe, when their gazes were caught every second by a new sign of gloomy decrepitude. Large holes let light peek in former buildings, the asphalt was cracked everywhere, melted glass and metal formed a sort of smooth, mirroring surface…

That was former New York.

They had reached their destination.

* * *

><p>They walked in silence, mindful of their surroundings. Their spirits stayed close despite not being in Over-Soul or Fusion, ready to protect the group if need be. All spiritual moves or links had been disabled for possible foes' to be unmistakable, but it somehow did not reassure them completely. After all, ambushed Shamans weren't the only danger in this part of the world. Due to the abandoned food resources out in the open, and the absence of those who kept them out of the metropolises, multiple predators had invaded most cities' ruins. Even with Dresda's healing powers a nasty scratch from a bear wasn't high on their dream list.<p>

The trip between broken streets and crumbling roads lasted a time none of them could have placed. It was exhausting to move in these without using their powers but they weren't stupid enough to risk it. If Hao wasn't aware of their presence, they weren't about to light bright signs to change that.

"Okay," suddenly said John, stopping the whole group. "The signal comes from there." He pointed the building they were in front of.

Meene's olive eyes squinted slightly as she took in the large edifice. It had been made from thick, red brick that seemed to have been melted by the rain, and through some holes a structure of tar and dark steel showed up. Glistening vines crept up from these holes, completing the nightmarish sight. It was maybe the least damaged building of the whole street, and so was the best choice for a wounded runaway… but also for a hunter that wanted his prey alive. She heard Tamao gulp.

Her own grip on her holster slightly tightened, but she wasn't about to show as much. As the Commander of the Resistance, it was her job to be reassuring and sure of their mission. Thus, she was glad to hear her voice sound clear and steady: "We get in, check quickly, we get out, done.  
>- Let me remind you of something, everyone. This is a code black mission. If we are attacked, try to hide and go back to camp to report to one of the Archangels. No "last stand" bullshit," offered Nolan in a rough tone. Meene had almost not listened. She could feel her blood rush into her veins at the mere idea that Marco was somewhere in there. The brunette took a step towards the door and…<p>

"Wait." Meene's eyes traveled down to the spot of her arm on which his stiff hand rested. Her lips had almost curled into a frown. It wasn't like they could back off now, could they? Not after all this travelling… Nolan better have a good reason for this. "I'm the safety officer here," added the brown-haired man. "The moment I say we get out, we get out. Alright everyone?" He said everyone, but Meene could hear in his voice that he meant to say her name. So reluctantly, she nodded, and stepped back so he could open the door.

Minutes afterwards, the large door finally gave out to Nolan's large shoulders, and with a creaking sound it opened. Behind it lied darkness. Gabriel and Michael immediately sprung free, trying to light the way and possible allies or enemies for their Shamans. The pale, whitish glow they emitted allowed Meene and her crew to distinguish large, rusty containers which tops disappeared high in the building. "An ancient warehouse," asserted Nolan as his eyes squinted to make sense of what he could see. The towering containers created an odd, screeching echo to his words – leading the whole group to speak not so loud.

Meene looked up, trying to see where a wounded, hunted man could hide. Of course, the countless alleys between the containers would be a perfect hiding place, and they would take a very long time to search them… Time they did not have. "That's a good hiding place," conceded Dresda. "But an ever better place to make a trap," sharply retorted Nolan. He was the oldest of the group, and from what Meene remembered he had survived only because he could smell every trick and strategy Hao's men used. To have him begin to emit doubts wasn't a really good thing… And she had to give him that: if she were Luchist, she would have chosen this place. But if she were Marco, she would have done the same…

"If Maxwell was here, he'd be watching over the entry," tried John. He didn't say, "so he would have come to us by now," it was not his place, but the sandy-haired commander could hear it all the same. "He's maybe passed out somewhere," countered Dresda, gingerly touching Meene's shoulder as said Meene spoke: "We should look around a bit."

But they could not just wander about, they would get lost. They had to find a way up, to survey the hall without actually entering its labyrinth of cylindric tanks. Michael flew over to the walls of the storehouse, trying to localize a way up, and soon he came back to lead them to a nearly crumbling ladder.

"We are splitting," Meene announced, loud enough for all the crew to hear. "John, Kaito, you stay there and explore. The rest comes with me." All nodded, and John watched over their ascension while Kaito darted away. The climb was risky, and at more than one point did a step crack under their weight, but their shamanic abilities kept them safe. Soon, they had attained a thin bridge that crossed the room, maybe two meters above the tops of the cylindric containers.

"He would have seen the Angels, heard our noise and come to us by now, and you know it," whispered Nolan. She knew he was right, but she still clung to the hope he might be unconscious. They couldn't give up now!

"Tamao, close to me," whispered Meene. "Nolan, Dresda, ten feet behind us. Careful, all." Thus they proceeded above the great hall, the two Archangels gliding on their sides, hopefully lighting any hiding place, be it from friends or foes.

Despite all their precautions, their footsteps created a loud echo more often than not, and still no trace of a sleeping Marco greeted their eyes. Then, when they were almost at the middle of the bridge, an unconscious, foreign instinct came to Meene, and, without thinking further, she leaped forward, merging with Gabriel and shouting to her team to run for cover – but they probably had no time to do that before the explosion she heard seconds afterwards.

Yells echoed behind her. Turning around, she discovered that the part of the catwalk they had been walking on just before was gone. Gone, completely. Tensing, she ran to the ends of the bridge, hands resting on the rail. The brunette caught sight of Dresda – sprayed on the top of a container, head twisted at a wrong angle. Nolan was fighting one of Hao's lieutenants, a brunette called Ashil or Ash or something, she couldn't remember. Their fight masked any event that could take place behind them.

She had to help them. Her wings were already flapping furiously when she heard the first shot. It passed two centimeters away from her head and directly into her right wing, shattering the fusion. Then, a voice she had long dreaded to hear echoed directly into her ears.

"Hello, Meene."

Her eyes widened, and, without being able to stop herself, the Canadian ran. Ran like a coward, ran like the stupid and gullible girl she had been while coming here. There was simply no way, no way in hell they could win against Luchist.

The platform she was on seemed infinite at first sight, but in truth she had soon reached its end. It led to a large, solitary door, on which a rusty sign indicated it to lead to yet another staircase. Cold sweat blinded her momentarily as she made it to the door, hearing more shots going off after her. The sounds of the fight echoed up to her position. She threw a last glance behind. If someone had been lucky enough to escape, or see her situation, if she could help in any way, she had to know it; her duty as captain was to at least protect those she could…

At that precise moment her eyes caught a gleam of silver and she saw him, leaning against the railing for precision. Older, thicker, but him all the same: black mantle, large hat, pristine feather, dry dark eyes…

And his gun was aimed at her.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 11:14<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Abandoned warehouse.<strong>

Tamao was hit by the attack – all but Meene were – and was hurled off the bridge. It was all too fast for her to react, and immediately she was falling, falling towards the looming containers and the floor. In a second of lucidity, she called forth Michael, trying to merge with him in time to stop her fall –

But she never had the time to do so. A shapeless shadow had shot from the darkness and seized her. The duo landed on the top of the container and her savior dropped her to the ground without further ceremony. All of her bones and muscles hurt as she rolled on the floor, and she let out a small groan. The mere shockwave had been enough to cause severe damages, or so it seemed, she thought as she tried to stand back – but apparently she had twisted her ankle, and badly so. Moving her foot only increased the pain, springing tears at the corners of her eyes. Her first impulse was still to try and go back on the improvised battlefield; but the scene her eyes were greeted with prevented that from happening.

A blast of furyoku wiped off one of Meene's men right before her eyes. Another was already on the floor, head rolled back. The two others were fighting another of Hao's lieutenants and a young, blond man, so young she wondered why he would be there – but she had to get out of there, find Marco or at least Meene and get to safety –

Hands grasped her again and she was jerked forward until she fell between the containers. She would have been afraid, but her mysterious helper saw it that she reached the ground at a reasonable speed. She immediately felt flickers of pain from her ankle and kneeled awkwardly. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she made to crawl away, but she was interrupted.

"Tamao."

The voice rang in her ears with the accent of a memory half-forgotten, freezing her mid-move. Swallowing harshly, she raised her head to meet dark, gold-lined clothes, shoulder long purple hair and the back of the head of someone she had never thought she would see again.

"R-Ren-kun…  
>- You're alright? You can walk?"<p>

The coral-haired Shaman looked at her bruised ankle, wincing as it hurt still, and then infused sparks of furyoku within her leg. Leaning on the side of the container, she was able to rise to her feet.

"I'll manage.  
>- Good. Don't move until you can't feel any furyoku in this building – this includes mine."<p>

His long form stood exactly in front of her, and she realized he was probably, both spiritually and physically, hiding her from the others. She frowned. "Ren-kun…  
>- Be quiet."<p>

From behind him she could see the fight going on. One of Meene's last men – Kaito, if she remembered well – was doing his best against the blond boy she'd seen before. Each of them seemed quite good, but not enough to overcome and finish off the other.

A yell came from Hao's boy as the other wounded him near the hip, then the shoulder. The Japanese charged, ready to end it all – and Ren jumped into action. His kwandao slashed across the room, revealing for a second the large face of Spirit of Thunder before coming down to crush Kaito. Tamao closed her eyes as the Over-Soul dissipated, already aware that there was no way for the Japanese to still be alive after such an attack. Silently, she wept, wanting to be deaf not to hear the battle go on.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 11:14<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Abandoned warehouse.<strong>

She had dove to her right, towards the stairs, but a bullet caught her in the arm. The shock threw her off-balance and she hit the stairs with a loud hiss. Ignoring the pain she partly climbed partly crawled a few steps up. Then only was she safe, for a small amount of time. Meene could not help but weep softly as she stood back up against the wall. The pain was excruciating, but each second was too precious to let go to waste. Gabriel zoomed around her, trying to soothe her and help her up. Her training came to help as she climbed the rest of the stairs, still leaning on the wall, and arrived before another flight of stairs. The wounded X-Law cleared her vision before searching for a hiding place. She needed to wrap something around her wound, to keep the blood from pouring out.

"Meene?"

Meene jumped suddenly, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through her arm. Wincing, she looked down to her transceiver. The device had suddenly come to life.

"Meene. Is Marco with you? Are you still on the way? Please clear the situation," it repeated, the tone more pleading than formal. Slowly, not to upset her arm further, she raised a hand to press a button to speak. "You were right, John. It was a trap." Her breath was raspy and painful, and she hoped he couldn't hear the desperation in her tone. "I got at least one woman down. I don't know for the others."

There was a silence.

"I should be furious, I should scream at you for being so damn irresponsible, but first things first. You okay?  
>- Almost," she responded, glancing worriedly to her wound. The blood fall seemed endless. She risked passing out if she didn't do something about it. "Hollow-point bullet in my good arm. It is still bleeding and I can't use it. Can't feel it, either.<br>- And that's what you call almost?  
>- I'll be alright. John, listen to me.<br>- Meene…  
>- Don't you dare interrupt me," she snapped. Awkwardly, she tore off a chunk of her sleeve to use as a bandage. His worried tone was more than she could bear. "I want to give you my last instructions. Just give this to Chris to double-check it is really me, then…<br>- Sorry, can't hear you with the blank noise. We're on the way, Meen. Just stay alive and hidden till then, okay?"

Her hand went to punch the solid metal. "Be serious, John. The others went down within seconds. I won't get out of this.  
>- Meen…<br>- Listen to the others, take care of the kids and protect them. You will be Head of the Resistance from now on." There was no need to explain anything further. There was a long pause, interrupted only by the two warning shots she sent down the stairs as she struggled to tie the bloodied rag around her wound. Then he regained his senses, and the brunette part-heard part-guessed his words among the interferences :

"No. No, you can't be serious. We all need you, 'Tonio needs you and, and I need you and –"

His voice had suddenly been turned off, just as she took the batteries from the transceiver. Meene let out a small, shaky sigh; she couldn't risk his voice betraying her position any longer, not with the low sounds she perceived from below. Someone was coming after her, and she had a pretty good idea of who it was.

Hastily, Meene climbed the new steps and arrived to a heavy, metallic door. Given there was no other flight of stairs, maybe this could be a way to the roof… She could escape from there. Yes, that was a good plan. Well, maybe not good but viable, at least. A quick Hyoi Fusion with Gabriel quickly destroyed the rusty lock that supposedly blocked it, and the Shaman kicked open the heavy panel. Without checking her new surroundings – though she probably should have, but her pain-filled mind was in no state to do so – she stumbled forward.

Only, she wasn't greeted by the flat roof she expected in that sort of warehouse: it was an inclined, tiled – though with time she was sure some had fallen, making the task even more difficult – roof, with only a small – maybe about ten centimeters wide – flat part at the very top.

Which would be the way she'd have to cautiously walk on with slippery blood leaking from her own arm if she hoped to find enough space to launch Gabriel as a real Over-Soul. Plus, as they had already noted upon arrival, it had rained not too long before, and the tiles were glistening.

The building was at least fifty feet tall, and she couldn't help but remember how she had marveled at the idea that such a high construction had not crumbled on its own. Trying to forget the number of stories between her and the floor, the brunette looked around for a hiding place.

Just as that thought crossed her head the brunette heard a very discreet, almost shy _tink. _Before she could do anything about it, the brunette felt her necklace drop from her neck. Gasping, she tried to reach it, but her wound slowed her down, and she could only watch as it hit the rooftop and bounced away on the flat part of the roof. Desperate, she took a few steps on the ridge. This was one of her last souvenirs of Marco, she wasn't about to lose it –

As her gaze searched frantically for the familiar gleam of metal, it fell on the void beneath her. Instantly, she froze, very much aware of the height she was currently at. Old memories of mathematics passed through her mind, all telling her that if she fell, the chances to fully merge with Gabriel in time were more than slim…

_Stop. Meene, you are _not _about to behave like a little girl. There's that necklace to fetch and the escape to manage/hiding place to find. You are _not _letting Luchist catch you because of a puny vertigo._

Breathing in slowly, she took a few steps, now seeing the item caught in a crooked tile. She needed only to take a few more steps. Only a few more…

There. She had it. Gingerly, she opened her fist, releasing a breath she hadn't known to be holding as her eyes found the fine silver of the pendant. Slowly, very slowly, she stood completely, her good hand pushing the item into her breast pocket. Her gun was still uselessly hanging from her injured arm, and for the umpteenth time she tried to stop the bleeding. A vein had been pierced, probably. No good, no good. Now to create the Fusion –

"Meene. Stop where you are."

She didn't freeze, she didn't jump nor bulge. Her eyes were stuck to the ground, and for a second it seemed she had not heard him.

"There's no exit, no escape left, Meene."

She took a step toward the end of the roof, her valid hand sneaking to the gun. "You're not seriously expecting that to work, are you," she muttered, boldly turning to face him. That didn't make her stop walking away from him, sliding one foot after another on the rooftop. Her eyes stayed glued to the large weapon aimed at her.

"Meene. Come back to me. You are losing too much blood. We both know what my bullets do to the human body: if you don't come here now I may not be able to heal you, and Hao-sama might not want to."

She managed a crooked grin. "Oh sure. Since when do you care about my well-being?  
>- Surprisingly, we've been doing that for a while now. Come to me, Meene," he repeated again, louder but still soothing, as if she was a wounded animal he was trying to tame. Well that would not work, she would make sure of that at least. She soon distinguished him o-so-slowly stepping forward, probably trying not to get noticed, and she almost tripped trying to widen the distance between them.<p>

"Not in a million years. You'll have to shoot me and bring my dead body to your master like a good dog." He smiled at her fake reassurance. He had seen how the brunette's eyes darted to the sides, and how her feet seemingly trembled each time she had to take them off the ground. Plus her breathing had gotten heavy – though that could be linked to her blood loss too, but he thought not. "Still afraid of heights, I see."

She would have made a smooth retort, but, as she was stumbling backwards, she really tripped this time. She hung in the air for what seemed like hours to the two Shamans, and fell on her already bruised arm. A heavy groan escaped her mouth, but it was partly covered by the shattering noise of the friction between her armor's steel and the roof material. Indeed, the brunette was now gliding at an absurd speed towards the gutter and the void beneath. Hitting the gutter like a bullet, the lean body of the woman bounced on it, tracing an impossible arc in the air.

Due to some miracle and probably lengthy training, her valid arm caught the metallic tube. Her body finished its course by slamming against the building's wall, earning another hissing sound from her. The resulting shock nearly broke her valid arm, and she _could not possibly maintain her grip_, but something held on - Gabriel. The angel had merged with her for the time being, and was the one currently protecting her Shaman from a long, long fall. The gun she held in the other hand had no such luck: it fell free and broke on the ground, so far beneath. Tears filled her eyes yet again. She was defenseless, and her horror only increased when she discovered that her blood covered glove was slipping on the polished metal. Frantic, she tried to move her other arm, but the injury was far too serious to let her.

Her head had bumped heavily on the stone, and her vision was hazy, like she was seeing things through a thick layer of grey jam. Once again, she tried to balance her other arm in order to support her weight, but to no avail. Sparks of pain were all the results she got.

Her eyes went up to meet Luchist's, who had cautiously walked down to her position, then blinked back down. She would not need much; her knuckles were already all numb from the effort. It would be so easy for him to undo the frail grip she had on the roof's end.

The priest smiled. "Here. Take my hand."

Irritated by the irony readable in his words, she tried to tighten her hold on the metallic gutter – and failed. The glove slipped and she saw herself falling towards the ground, to end up plastered across the wet soil, blood pouring out of her mouth and – but he had already caught her wrist. As always, Luchist had that cold, diplomatic smile plastered on his lips. "No 'thank you'? I'm hurt." She didn't respond. Her mind was trying to obliterate the fear clawing at her insides and the pain as her arm screamed for mercy. She could not hold in a small whimper.

"Now now, think of it like that: you will soon see Marco again. Isn't that great?"

She gritted her teeth, feeling with a painful acuity the power such words had on her. One quick look downwards and her head shot up, panic filling her eyes as she tried to grip Luchist's arm tighter. He chuckled. Her fear overwhelmed the remnants of her pride and she asked, trying not to sound too desperate.

"I will... See him again? He's alive? He's safe?" The priest nodded. And then...

"MEENE! JUMP!" For a second, the two Shamans stayed there, unmoving.

Luchist was too late; the Canadian reacted first. Without thinking further, blindly trusting the voice, the brunette kicked against the wall, liberating herself from the priest's grip. Her fall seemed surreally endless to her – until Michael caught her, almost delicately.

She would hate herself for that later, but a small second – a very small second – she thought she saw Marco, all clad in white glory.

In the lazy light of the midday sun, Michael flew right back where he belonged, in between the long shadows of the other Archangels, side by side with Dainichi Nyôrai. That crew at least could take on Luchist and win.

* * *

><p><strong>Rain :<strong> … Gaaah, I suck at fight scenes…

**Hao : **Agreed.

**Rain :** No encouragement ? Cold, man, cold.

**Hao :** You want cold? *SoF becomes SoIce*

**Rain :** *frozen like an ice-cream*


	10. Sugary lies amidst the truth

**Chapter X : Sugary lies amidst the truth**  
><strong>Author:<strong> Rain on your Back

**Disclaimer:** Shaman King doesn't belong to me. Only Clay, Lyanne, Hane, Antonio and Jareth do. I bite.

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. October twelfth. 20:28.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle : ****Dungeons****.**

"Where is he?"

Only silence answered her.

"WHERE IS HE?"

The tattoo shone so bright even her thick sleeve couldn't hide it, but Jeanne did not seem to realize it. Her eyes were wild with power, and Hao could feel the danger building up. Not for himself, of course, but probably for the whole castle and even the city – something he could not afford.

"Jeanne, please calm down." His tone was carefully controlled, slightly annoyed, but not too much; falsely concerned, but not too much. But the albino was beyond these games.

"There is no way I'll calm down! Have you no honor Hao? Must you first break the only promise I've asked from you _and then_ have the nerve to bring me back to witness it firsthand? Guess what? If you've touched him I am bound by _nothing_ and _I will not waste any other second before getting out of here!"_

The key she had carelessly dropped flung under the violent waves of her energy directly toward him. At approximately five inches of his face, the object stopped. Hao's eyes had grown darker.

"Now don't go making empty threats. I have done nothing to him but keep him somewhere he can't be a nuisance for me; I was true to my word.  
>- You better believe they are not empty. Take me to him then! Prove me he is well. Or maybe you can't? If so don't make me waste my time, I'm out."<p>

The brunette knew all too well what she meant by those words, and was not intent on letting her think she had any reason to. Oh, he could have threatened her with the lives of her precious angels, but his plan was more sensible than that.

The shadow of a smile hovered over his lips as he extended a hand towards her.

"Come. I'll take you to him." Jeanne stared at his hand, then looked back at Anna. Her furyoku flare was gradually fading as her sheer anger turned into wary concern.

"She's sick.  
>- She refused my help. I'm not going to waste any more time on her."<p>

That earned him a cold stare. The albino crouched back down, and helped Anna to her feet. "I'm not letting you do away with her," she snarled. "She will come too."

"Worried I might hurt her because of what she told you? Be reasonable, Jeanne. She's sickly and too frail to stand. She needs to rest." Her eyebrows rose.

"If that's how you make sure she rests, she'll be fine with us." Her hold was still tight over Anna's waist, even as the blond tried to sever it. Hao simply smiled. "I doubt she agrees with you." Jeanne almost snapped at him, but finally shook her head and led the blond back to the small, spotless bed. That at least seemed correct, but she wouldn't believe anything so easily. As Anna lied down with a small groan, the albino decided to at least help her state by offering her a furyoku transfer.

Her energy moved from her to the pale blonde for several minutes before she finally stood up and left the cell. "I'll come back, you know. You won't be able to do anything to her without me knowing."

Rolling his eyes, the Shaman King simply walked away, and after a second's hesitation she followed him – even if she did look back at Anna's cell several times. Jeanne's fury was not calmed, it had to be noted, but as long as he detained Marco she would let him believe so. The second she saw the X-Laws' leader, however…

They walked in silence for a few minutes, descended a couple of stairs, and turned times after times until Jeanne was completely lost. She sensed Hao would have liked something akin to a discussion between them, but had no intention of creating one.

Then the brunette stopped, and gestured towards a small unlit room separated by the main corridors by only a thin series of bars, slightly colored by the furyoku that secured it. The brunette turned towards his companion, but Jeanne was already gone.

"Marco," she was saying, "Marco." By the time he noticed the albino was already at the bars, her slender fingers locked around them. Her eyes were watering at the sight of the blond man. He was alive. Alive and well, from what she could see anyway. No blood, no bandages, he seemed like he was simply sleeping. Was he? "Marco!"

Only silence answered, and Hao's voice a few seconds after. "Let him be. He needs his rest, you know." That made her pause. "Did you do something to him? I swear it Hao, if you dared only touch –  
>- I did nothing to your pathetic lieutenant." He was almost seething, his composure shattered within seconds. The anxiety and bittersweet melancholy that seeped from the way she moved and looked over the blonde's sleeping form – he hated it. Why care so much for this stupid man? She had ten years to grow and reflect on what had really happened to her. Couldn't she see "who" was the real traitor here? A big ugly snarl distorted his features. "I'm not responsible for every stupid thought that keeps him awake."<p>

For a split second he thought she was going to argue, but she simply shook her head and crossed her arms, defiance made woman. "Then I'll come back tomorrow. And the day after that. You won't keep him from me, Hao."

A small humored expression graced his features at the thought. "Are you sure it would be best for you two to see each other again?"

She froze, her brows furrowed.

"What do you mean?"

Hao's sour smile widened. "If he sees you he'll wonder why you're here. Why you disappeared from the ship before the finale. Who is that child who looks so much like me. He won't like his answers, even you can see that. He'll reject you, he'll hate you." He knew his words rang true and harsh to her ears, but it was meant to. He _needed_ to make her see what he saw, to finally sever the stupidly harsh link that existed between her and that man, so that one day he could… Ah. He had almost missed her answer.

"N-no he won't." It was so weak, so unsure he couldn't help the chuckle that accompanied his retort. "See for yourself then. Why would I care if he breaks you first? It'll only make it easier for me." That time she was strong, and her hand was stronger as it connected with his cheek. He didn't bulge, only took it and forced her to come closer to him, his arms stopping her from even trying to recoil. The brunette sighed gently before speaking up, with in his voice darker undertones.

"Jeanne… Yield. Yield to me. Why must you always resist?"

She shifted so she could stare at him, her burgundy eyes slightly darkening as she looked in disdain at this powerful being. "Did you forget to take your own counsel, Hao? The one about not falling in love with an enemy? I forgot my duty once. I was young, I was _weak_. I changed. If my duty is to fight you till my last breath, then so be it." His stare hardened once more, and his grip on her shoulder tightened to the point it hurt. "Don't you have a duty to me, as your king and the father of your child?" She almost chuckled. It was just so wrong, the way he saw things… But she couldn't let him believe she would indulge him. "Don't.  
>- Don't do what?<br>- Don't try to make me see you like I see Hane and the others. It won't work." She forcefully shoved him back and took two steps away from him to breathe more freely. "You are not my king, and certainly not the father of a child whose name bothers you. My duty is and will always be to her fist.  
>- And then blondie, am I wrong?"<p>

The pause was enough of an answer.

"No", she offered him a small sad smile, "you're not. Goodnight, Hao."

A soft sigh escaped her as she departed, her steps reverberating on the harsh pavement. She could feel his stare burning on her heels, but didn't offer him the satisfaction of looking back.

"I wish you sweet dreams," he murmured after her. "Those will be the last sweet things you'll get for a long time."

* * *

><p><strong>Tuesday. October twelfth. 21:03.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle : Hane's bedroom.**

Lyanne looked up from the pile of books she was checking to see whether giving them to Hane was possible or not. The child had been peacefully sitting in a corner of the room, her eyes wide open but looking at nothing in particular, since her mother had departed in the early afternoon; but now it seemed she was growing bored, or agitated, or both perhaps, and moans of distress escaped her. Lyanne needed to do something, so she put the books away and came closer to the child. As the large and curious red eyes fell on her the blonde couldn't help but try and fail to imagine that look on her mother.

Lady Jeanne had been nothing like she imagined her, in truth. She was stunning, sure, and stronger than everyone except Hao, as expected of one the king would choose to share his throne; but she was gentler, frailer, _younger_ than she had the right to be in Lyanne's mind. She couldn't have been older than fifteen at the time of the tournament. Who would be so heartless to send such a child into battle? Of course Lord Hao was barely older but, well, he was Hao.

The blondie bit her lip. She'd have to ask Ruth if she knew the Lady during the Shaman Fight. But not now. Until the lady returned she was in charge of Hane, and she knew better than to leave her alone. Plus Lord Hao had asked her to try and understand for him what went wrong in his daughter's brain… And as far from the truth that view of the situation was, she would be foolish not to try to obey him.

The blond-haired woman settled down next to the child, her hands in her lap. _I'm not a threat._ "Okay, Hane. Remember what mama said?"

The child, while looking at the shimmering button that kept Lyanne's shirt closed, recited meekly: "Hane has to speak with you." She paused, her eyebrows furrowing. "Hane is not sure to like it."

Lyanne chuckled weakly, and quickly looked over her notes from the two parents' conversations. She didn't really know what the two of them – Hao really, Jeanne was only allowing this to happen very reluctantly – wanted from her. It wasn't like she had any real knowledge on how to deal with such a child…

"Ah, yes. Can you tell me if you know someone called Siglen?"

Hane blinked. "Hane knows."

"Is he a boy or a girl?" Frown. "Siglen's Siglen." Dutifully Lyanne scribbled down Hane's answers. Though it might not seem to mean anything at this point, maybe it would help support future theories. "How do you know him?  
>- Hane knows. Hane and Siglen," the child paused to mash her hands together. A giggle escaped her then, as if a joke had been whispered to her ear. This made Lyanne uneasy; if it were a ghost plaguing the child any Shaman would have seen it, her mother the first of them, but… No. It could as well, and was more probably, an imaginary friend the girl had invented to fight loneliness. She had to play along. "Alright… May I speak with him? Is he here with us?"<p>

Hane tilted her head, as if she had trouble understanding the intention behind the question. "Siglen never talks. Hane speak for Siglen." Lyanne blinked. The imaginary friend theory made better sense now. If so it was better to humor her.

"Does Siglen have parents?" Blank stare. "Does he have a mama like you?" The look Hane gave her then was distinctly puzzled, and a bit condescending, though it was hard to think she knew it. "Mama is mama to Hane and Siglen.  
>- Then… You mean to say Siglen's your brother?" Yes, an imaginary brother, that could be a pretty good explanation. And fairly reassuring too. But Hane's reaction to that inquiry was all but reassuring. The pretty girl recoiled, bumping into the wall as she crawled away from the older blonde. "Stupid. Stupid girl doesn't understand anything. Hane wants mama! MAMA!" Her screams stunned Lyanne for a split second, and she could do naught before the child began to hit her head with her own fists, as if trying to shake out an invisible ache. Luckily for her, a certain silver-haired Shaman had just found her way back to her daughter's room, and soon had her subdued.<p>

"Here, here. It's okay Hane, I'm here." Jeanne kept the two small wrists of her child in her grip, even when the girl tried to hit her. A mist of furyoku left the mother to hover over the daughter, effectively soothing her to an extent. Long minutes passed that way, with Jeanne simply rocking Hane back and forth. The child drifted gently to sleep, and soon Jeanne was putting her down on her bed. The two women did not speak a word as Hane dived deeper in the dreams' realm. The albino gently caressed her cheek before raising. The blonde woman assumed she would get yelled at, but by the time she looked back at Lyanne, all traces of emotions were gone from the albino's eyes. "I need your help.  
>- What…?" Lyanne frowned. She wasn't sure she liked the sparkle that lit Jeanne's expression.<p>

"Hane is not a Shaman. She is of no use to anyone here. I'm sure you can see it too, Lyanne," she pleaded, "she's just a child. If she stays here you know she'll be hurt, one way or another."

The blonde woman didn't answer right away. Her thoughts, however, ran wild: there was no mistaking Jeanne's meaning. Her eyes travelled from Jeanne to Hane and back away, like she was trying to decipher some hidden riddle. "Aren't you afraid I might tell Hao-sama? I certainly should.  
>- Yes, probably it would be best for you. But you're not like them, Lyanne. Look at him, look at her! She needs to get out of here. I think you can understand it as well as I do." The blonde dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, Lady Jeanne," she finally replied as she was standing up, "I think you should really not try to plot against our King." She then made for the door, ignoring the hand the albino had raised to try and appease her. "Lyanne," Jeanne called, but the blonde woman was beyond replying now. She made a hasty exit, leaving mother and child alone. Jeanne stayed petrified for a second, before letting her hand down. A sigh bubbled up her lips. She hadn't been convincing enough, hadn't been careful enough. Now Hao would know, and her chances would thin out like silk treads in a lit fireplace.<p>

Rya would have done better. Rya was gentler and stronger at the same time. Jeanne missed her ghost friend, missed her so much it hurt to even think about it.

Hane rolled in her sleep, throwing her plush against the wall. Jeanne's gaze fell on it. Now what…?

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 09:12.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle : Hane's bedroom.**

"Hane. Hane, listen to mama. Hane…"

Jeanne finally got her daughter's attention. The child, despite not making eye contact, stilled her movements and waited. Around her were splayed the colorful cushions that she had grabbed from one of the drawers. Before finally listening to her mother she had been frantically scribbling down broken sentences and nonsensical lists of numbers; her hands were covered in ink stains.

Hao, who had entered the room just as Hane stilled, spoke up softly: "Did Lyanne already work with her?  
>- One meeting with a woman who has no special formation won't make her your little soldier, Hao." She had tried to put as much venom as she could in these words, but her weariness was obvious. She wasn't used to such tension anymore.<p>

"It can't do much but help," he replied calmly. "Not to make her a soldier, but a person who will be able to function and coexist with the rest of us without help."

"That's so very kind of you," she smiled, irony sharp as a blade slaying him in thought, "but we don't need your help. The last time you tried to help her was already bad enough, thank you."

Hao thought he knew quite a lot about many things, and more than only quite a lot about Jeanne, but those words threw him off guard. He did not understand the least what that last whim was about.

"What do you mean?"

The look she gave him. Her ruby eyes would have grilled him where he stood if they could have, like the mere idea that he didn't know (remember?) what he'd done was already a crime. "What I mean," she seethed, and oddly that was when he understood what she was raving about, "is that if you hadn't tried to kill her she might not be like that."

Hao's features rippled like a lake's surface at the beginning of a storm. He too remembered that moment, all too well he might add, but he certainly didn't regret any of it.

The Shaman King seldom regretted anything anyway.

"At the time I believed it would be best for us both. And seeing you now… I still think it would have been best."

Instinctively, Jeanne shifted to place herself between him and the silent child. Hane's eyes rested somewhere behind Hao, and despite her instinct to simply cover her ears and stop her from hearing her father's words, the albino knew her daughter wasn't able to hear them. It was only a small comfort, she couldn't help but think. The next words that fell off her lips dripped of bitter poison.

"A soul still in the womb and you wouldn't have minded killing her. Now why do you think I just won't trust you, I wonder…?"

There she went again. Fancying conclusions and refusing to hear anything that didn't match her view.

"Jeanne…  
>- Do you know how hard it was? Being alone, so desperately alone to give birth, with only a spirit to help me. My furyoku wouldn't obey me and she just <em>wouldn't cry. <em>We almost died that night.  
>- Leaving was your choice." If she had stayed he would have been able to help her. His own healing abilities would have been more than enough to ensure both her safety and the child's. But of course his dear Jeanne wouldn't see it that way.<p>

"Hurting her before she could ever see the light of day was yours," she spat. "And for that there is no forgiveness to be found in me. You can stop coming here, Hao. These discussions of ours will always lead to the same conclusion: one of us needs to leave the room."

He didn't react. "Wasn't I clear enough? Get out." Her tone was final.

For a second, the brunette seemed to consider arguing, but then thought better of it. The mighty Shaman King turned away, slowly, and left her alone.

She was glad.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 14:09.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle : King's wing.**

The blond-haired Shaman was making her way in the corridors towards Lord Hao's apartments. Her decision was made, she would tell the King. Of course, it pained her that she would make it worse for Hane's mother, but Clay's safety came first. And if Hao discovered she knew about a plot but didn't tell him… Her sandals clicked hurriedly against the stones. Now that she had ended her deliberations, she wanted it to be done quickly, so she could take a shower afterwards, to scrub off the guilt and shame.

There was also something, something important she had concluded from her short conversation with Hane, but she dared not speak about it so soon, however dutiful she might feel. Lady Jeanne would have enough to deal with already. Later, she told herself, later she would tell him, she needed more data and evidence.

As she hastily turned into the King's wing, the blondie almost bumped into Kanna. A low growl was the only salutation she received, but she was used to it by now; since her return from the ranks of the X-Laws she wasn't exactly high into the German's standards. So she was about to apologize and quickly leave the other's presence…

But before she could even dream of it, someone appeared from one of the adjacent rooms. Said someone was actually the very one she was searching for, and his face seemed way more preoccupied than it ever seemed to her before.

Kanna immediately straightened, bowing her head for a second. "Hao-sama.  
>- Kanna, Lyanne. Follow me."<p>

They arrived at the infirmary doors, which Hao quietly pushed open. Lyanne couldn't help but frown. Why would he have something to do there unless someone was injured…? The brown-haired Shaman led the way still, and did not stop before they had reached the only currently occupied bed of the infirmary. At that point, he easily took a step aside and gestured for them to come closer. Kanna was first, of course, stealing dark glances to Lyanne from time to time.

On the bed lied a messy, sweaty figure. Lyanne couldn't feel any furyoku flowing from him, as if he had been drained dry. His face was as pale as a paper sheet, and parts of his hair had been chomped out. Bruises had blossomed on his cheeks and the portion of his neck that wasn't covered by his body.

"It's Ashiru," realized Kanna a second before Lyanne could. "What happened to him…?"

It was only when the German Shaman brutally tore the blanket from the younger boy's body than the foul stench of blood reached their noses, and the blond Shaman couldn't help the wave of nausea that overwhelmed her. Kanna, for once, seemed affected, and Lyanne managed, through the thick veil of sickness, to remember he had been one of Hao's first companions, like the younger woman. They were probably close…

"He showed up at the gates one hour ago," said Hao, bringing her back to the matter at hand. "He was as good as dead then, with several fatal wounds and a lot of bruises everywhere; without my powers he wouldn't be breathing right now. His fever should come down in the morning."

"Who did this to him?" Kanna was furious. "Who dared attack him? I want a name, Hao-sama. Let me go and find that person. He'll regret being born before I'm done–  
>- Calm down, Kanna. I have, sadly, more to say. Before he passed out Ashiru managed to tell me what happened. He has been left alive to send us a precise message, one that predicts many more deaths in both parts involved, I'm afraid.<br>- Who…?  
>- Their princess awakened, Kanna. She somehow managed to know who exactly was going to trap Meene and came with the full angel squad.<br>- Wait," frowned Lyanne. "Lord Ashiru wasn't alone, right? Where are the others?"

There was a pregnant pause, one that made her want to puke.

"Ashiru, Ren and Clay were supposed to back up Luchist, to take care of Meene's team as he captured her. But in front of Sâti…  
>- No," Kanna said, her voice half a whisper and half a shout. Her eyes were wild and her fists balled.<p>

"She killed them all, destroyed their corpses, and left Ashiru to let us know," completed Hao without acknowledging her denial. His face was unreadable. But that had to be a joke right? They couldn't be dead. _He couldn't be dead._No, not Clay, not young and bright and happy Clay… She could see the huge smile he always sported as he told her excitedly about this real mission he had been given, about how powerful and smart his partners were, his teacher and dark cold Ren and hot-headed Ashiru… He couldn't be gone. He wasn't even twenty yet! He wasn't strong enough as a target for powerful Shamans to kill him, it had to be a mistake… Maybe they captured him or maybe they just thought he was dead… He couldn't be –

"It's your fault," a voice said. Lyanne blinked, and was turning towards Kanna when the other's hands caught her shoulders and threw her across the room. The blonde woman ended in a messy tangle of limbs on the floor, and before she could even dream of standing up she was kicked in the side. "IT'S YOUR FAULT! IT WAS YOUR IDEA!  
>- L-Lady Kanna!<br>- Was it your plan all along? You were one of them, I knew that the second you came back!" Kanna had completely lost it. Each sentence was punctuated by a kick and a breathless yelp of pain. "How could you? HOW COULD YOU? YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU DID! You stupid piece of trash!"

That was when Hao finally stepped in. One might have assumed he simply hadn't had the time to react before, but those who knew him, even only a little, could clearly see he had known how Kanna would react, and simply didn't care enough to prevent it. "Enough." His extended arm never reached Kanna, but he had no need to; an unyielding power came to life around the German Shaman, and immobilized her. "I understand your pain, Kanna, but you have no right to take it out on one of our trusted companions." Walking up to the two women, his hand closed around Lyanne's arm and got her back to her feet. His energy acted like a warm shower over the bruised blonde, soothing her pain and tending to her damaged body.

"Here," he said, and his firm grip threw a shiver down her spine. _He's using her,_ she realized. _He shows by contrast how kind and comforting he could be, and at the same time warns me of what could happen if I decided to be reckless._ Too bad she had taken those psychology courses, the same that were her biggest help while trying to understand Hane.

A mad chuckle tickled her throat, but she managed to keep it in. It was odd, so very odd that she could think so clearly when her brother was dead. It was as if she wasn't herself anymore, as if she was looking at her body from the outside as it walked and thought. And right now that objective observer told her…

This was a trap. No, worse than a trap. It was a test, a test she would fail if she stayed. Her control would slip any time now, that she was sure of. "If you'd excuse me," she mumbled. Hao's dark nod was enough, and she swiftly exited the room. Her steps, slow and somewhat numb in the beginning, soon grew hasty, and she ran down the hallway. Her duty to her King, the conclusions of her first approach of the princess, everything – all forgotten.

Clay was dead.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 16:37.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Castle: Jeanne's chambers.<strong>

As she approached the door, the blonde woman coughed slightly, bothered by the metallic taste that filled her mouth. Her throat was raw after so much screaming, and her cheeks burned like she had dropped pure salt onto irritated flesh.

"Lady Jeanne?"

The red stare flickered up to her in silent disapproval, which transformed into a wary concern as she noticed the tear-streaked cheeks of the older woman. Lyanne let out something between a sigh and a sob before closing the door, walking to the bed and sitting on its edge. Jeanne inched closer, her lips forming a question that was cut off by the single phrase the blonde Shaman offered to her.

"I will help you get her out of here."

* * *

><p><strong>Rain :<strong> And to say that's only half of the initial chapter… 4,765 words… Pfffuuu…

**Hao :** … I'm not sure I like that direction you're taking.

**Rain:** Shh. You'll like the next chapie. Or its ending. Let the goodies feel safe.


	11. Footsteps in the dark

**Chapter XI : Footsteps in the dark**

**Auteur :** Rain

**Disclaimer :** Shaman King doesn't belong to me. The OCs and the poorly thought-out plot do, however, so no using Hane/Antonio/Lyanne/Clay/Rowana etc without my permission.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 16:00.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Town.<strong>

When she finally opened her eyes, it was to the dark. There was no way to guess the time of the day, not even roughly – the sun might have been harshly glaring down on her from the outside without her being able to tell. The only indication, which she had known for long did not mean much, was the actual temperature of the room – well below what it should have been.

She could hear them, all around her, hissing and slithering. Once in a while, the sharp sound of jaws snapping closed echoed. She didn't wince, or even move in the slightest, too well aware what her punishment would be if she dared do so. Lying still, she listened intently, trying to locate her hosts, trying to grasp some basic understanding of the situation. She felt cold, and couldn't be sure what she felt on her body was just the result of passing breezes or _their _passing, so she stayed immobile. Waiting.

It was only when she heard _his _voice above the rest that she knew she could move. It was her cue, to put it plainly. His half-hushed, half-hissed words calmed his slippery minions, and repelled them into a dark corner, so that she could move without upsetting one of them. With a sharp intake of breath and a shiver, she rose, trying to shake off the chill that always reigned sovereign in that small room. In contrast, his callous hands were almost warm as he seized her shoulders.

"Don't move so fast, you'll get all nauseous," he whined, silky and seductive like the snake he was. She couldn't see him in the pitch-black chamber – couldn't see her own hands if she held them before her face – but she could picture his shameless, licentious smirk he wore as he kissed her head, and even the iron gleam in his golden eyes he must sport while tugging at a strand of pale blue hair. "How is my little ice fairy today?"

She couldn't find her voice, and thus could produce no answer. He'd stolen it the second his nails grazed her pearly skin. Gently, he caressed her naked arm, tracing with disturbing care and precision the bite marks that adorned her body. Breathing was much harder suddenly, and she had to focus to listen to his next words. Before her eyes, white and red had begun to swirl, framing flashing pictures of violence and pain.

"We will soon have work to do, my pet," he smiled, "would you feel strong enough to assist me in it?" His Guardian Spirit began glowing, his yellowish aura shedding light on the swarming mass of snakes all around them. She never blinked, and after a short time she even smiled.

It was a light, airy smile.

"Of course, Namari-sama."

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 16:40.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle: Jeanne's chambers.**

"You would do _what_?"

Jeanne had instinctively shifted closer to the child. It was evident in her demeanor that she didn't trust Lyanne all that much, and such a sudden change of heart would look suspicious to anyone. Breathing hard through her tears, the blond-haired told her the whole story. Much like a puzzle, most of it didn't make sense to the albino, mainly due to Lyanne's frequent sobs and tendencies to mix the timeline up, but after a while, the blond stopped speaking. As she stood there wailing softly, Jeanne considered her silently for what seemed a very, very long time. Then,

"… So Luchist is dead."

Lyanne stared bemusedly. Jeanne didn't really know what to do. A part of her was moved by the news… The other quietly rejoiced. Much like she wanted to comfort the blonde girl – because the person in front of her was in no way a woman – and, at the same time, distrusted her and judged her untrustworthy.

Finally, she patted the empty space between the two of them. Hane's gentle breathing as she lay asleep behind her back helped her stay focused. Once Lyanne had scooted closer, as proposed, Jeanne took the blonde's head into her hands and stared, hard.

"I'll be blunt. **Are** **you** trying to deceive me for Hao's benefit?"

The albino scrutinized every micro change in her companion's features, every slight ripple in her dim furyoku flows. Lyanne seemed too crushed and shocked to answer verbally, but it mattered little. Jeanne got her answer.

With a relieved sigh, she released her companion, leaned back a little, and waited. Sure enough Lyanne was soon blabbering about what could help them make their move.

"There's someone who can help us out of the city, maybe you know her. Pache Rutherford? And Clay… My brother maintained she was sad and unsatisfied with the way the things were now. The Chief Pache… that person I'm thinking of… She can create a submarine out of her Over-Soul, a submarine perfected through the centuries to be swift and imperceptible. Not even Lord Hao's best lieutenants will be able to trace it, all the more as Luchist's gone.  
>- But Hao can," Jeanne whispered lightly. Lyanne nodded. "No one can hide from him, not long. We need to be out of his reach before he notices."<p>

Jeanne thought hard. There was no way he wouldn't notice. He was all over her and Hane since they arrived, and if there was a single shift in the furyoku flows of the capital he would sense it. She would, after all.

"I'll distract him.  
>- L-Lady Jeanne?<br>- I'm the only one available with sufficient furyoku levels to mask the submarine's departure. I'll do it.  
>- But then…<br>- There is absolutely no way I can escape with her, Lyanne. I knew it from the start. He watches me more than he does her, she's just the glittering bonus while I'm the prize he's worked for all these years."

The blonde Shaman stared in incomprehension. Jeanne merely chuckled feebly, and took her – dared she say friend's ? – companion's hand into hers, before going on with the details of their blooming plan.

* * *

><p><strong>Wednesday. October thirteenth. 22:56.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**X-Laws Headquarters.**

"There you go Commander. In a few hours it'll be completely fine again.  
>- Thank you, Jareth."<p>

Meene sighed, running her free hand through her sand-like hair as the healer slipped away. Now all she had left was a broken arm half-healed and a bunch of angry men that refused to speak to her. Well, at least the brunette was positive she could convince Sâti to go on helping them. That was already half-done, of course, since the princess had killed Luchist. She could not hope in her right mind that Hao would leave her alone after _that_…

"I won't help you, Meene." Sâti's voice was like a sword, singing but sharp. Meene winced. The walk from the infirmary to the princess' den had already been tiring enough.

"Lady Sâti…  
>- I won't put Komeri in danger. Avenging Jackson was my only aim tonight – if <em>he <em>hadn't been there I certainly wouldn't have come.  
>- That's cowardice," accused Meene. Her cheeks stung as if the redhead had slapped her; had she really no sense of duty? "I doubt Jackson would have wanted you to leave us in such a situation.<br>- You are certainly right," nodded Sâti. "Cowardice. Amusing that you would accuse me of such, though. Given you Angels have been playing it safe ever since the battle began."

Meene frowned, the first lights of a fire alighting in her usually calm eyes. Of all the things she could have rightfully accused of, be it foolishness or melancholy or futility, that was one she could not quite swallow. "What is that supposed to mean?  
>- <em>Don't take me for a fool, X-Law<em>." Sâti's usually melodious voice was a hiss now. "No angels were ever harmed while we were being butchered by dozens. You're not going to convince me it is a coincidence. Now silence. My daughter and I want peace."

If Komeri disagreed, she didn't voice it out loud. The fire-haired princess left, hand in hand with her daughter, and Meene sighed before turning – and almost bumping into Tamao.

The only other survivor of their little expedition didn't look all that bad, when compared to the heavily-bandaged and bloody commander. The stress of over-souling Michael to save the falling Meene had been since then compensated for – though the rosy hue Tamao's cheeks sported probably had much to do about it.

"T-thank you, Meene-sama," muttered the pink-haired little woman, "I mean, for Ren-kun."

Or maybe not. Meene wasn't all quite sure what the matter was between their prisoner and her companion, as Tamao's explanation of how she'd been spared during Hao's coronation was more than hazy, but some things apparently had been remembered and hidden from the brunette. She'd have to investigate. Some other time, because she was tired and her arm was already screaming for air, but she'd have to.

Just one more thing on top of all the other duties she had as Commander. Great.

"You don't have to thank me. Whatever his motives for joining Hao may have been, his knowledge of the false king's plans is too precious to sacrifice, all the more as he's willing to cooperate."

Tamao smiled, and nodded obediently. After a short, awkward silence, the pink-haired woman spoke again. "May I see him?"

The request wasn't all that far-fetched, or even surprising, but Meene hadn't thought about it at all. She really must have been more tired than she supposed… The brunette considered her companion for a moment, her weary olive eyes staring at her with something like melancholy. "The woman in me understands you, Tamao, she really does," she began, carefully, knowing she threaded on more than uncertain ground, "but since Marco is still not here I have to keep being the Head of this organization. You may not. I don't know how you two meeting will influence him."

The blow struck hard. Tamao took a step away, and it appeared clear she didn't think she would be rejected. Meene nervously scratched at her plaster, and planned to strategically retreat towards her quarters, when the pink-haired girl's voice echoed again.

"Didn't you lose that legitimacy when you went running after a shadow?"

Meene stopped, and actually turned to confront Tamao, waiting for the young Shaman to go on in her accusation… and she did. "You lost four lives for nothing today. Maybe you shouldn't be the Head anymore." Tamao's voice stayed neutral, though her gaze was anything but. If Meene hadn't heard the words, she would even have doubted the small slip of a girl could utter such a sentence. But she did, and it stung, sharply.

"That's not true," Meene sighed, and her voice sounded soft and strong and final, "Luchist was killed today. I believe four lives for his may be a cheap cost. It is one I was, am and would be willing to pay, anyway."

Then she went, leaving Tamao upset and alone. The blonde quietly walked along the halls of the Headquarters, slouching slightly under her fatigue. Deep inside, she grieved for those four Shamans, and of course she blamed herself for their fates, but it would have been wrong to show it in front of anyone, even if that 'anyone' was Tamao.

In a sullen mood, the brunette walked back to her quarters. Each person she met greeted her with worried care and benevolence, but they seemed dark, howling shadows before her eyes. It wasn't until she had closed her door behind her, and had caught sight of her son that she could breathe again.

The young boy had his back to her, and before she even looked at him she could guess he was enthralled in the study of some sturdy book of his. Of course, given his young age, he probably didn't understand much of it… at least she hoped he didn't. Kevin's library was less than ordered; the ones supposed to run it didn't have the time to deal with the blonde scholar as they maybe ought…

Gently, so as not to startle him, the brunette walked up and touched his shoulder. The boy raised his head, as if awakening from a dream. His expression went from focused to incredibly happy, and he threw his arms around her with a joyful cry. It was only then that he discovered the state of her arm that he retreated, effectively frozen into place.

"My big boy," Meene whispered, cradling her son as if he were a mere glasswork.

"Mom", whispered back the small blondie, his gaze lingering fearfully on the large plaster that maintained her arm in place. With a care impressive for a boy his age, he reached to graze the white, cold surface. "How did you do that?"

Meene smiled, an easy excuse swimming up to the front of her mind. "One of the new trainees accidentally pulled the trigger next to me. I need to go and let Jareth see it, my boy.  
>- Don't call me a boy. I'm almost an adult now, mom," he pouted. "I can stay up longer. And I can help you, too – you don't have to hide things from me.<br>- Things, Tonio?"

His ears reddened up. For a second, his features reflected an internal fight between two great forces, before he sat close to his mother and thoughtfully watched as she prepared him a glass of orange juice. The drink had become something of a rarity in the Shaman Kingdom, and Meene rationed it very carefully – for her to pour it so generously, the day must have been hard. He swallowed.

"I know you weren't in the headquarters today."

The brunette paused, the bottle inches away from her own glass. Her calm if tired expression turned into a sour frown. "How would you know? There are parts of this complex you are not allowed into. Did you trick Kevin again?"

The boy's pride was insulted. His face reddened, and he let out, sharply: "A bird told me.  
>- A bird?"<p>

The second he had stuttered the words, Antonio began to look angry at himself. He had babbled without restrain, without care, and she'd guessed it all. Plunging his stare into his yellowish drink (she diluted the juice with water, and thought he didn't know, but he forced himself not to mind), the blond boy mumbled: "You'll be mad if I tell you."

That was when she understood. Her expression turned severe. "I think I see who you mean. Wasn't your bird white, Antonio?"

The little boy winced. "Don't be mad."

Meene sighed, and ran her free hand through her knotted hair. She needed a shower. She needed a shower, and a night of rest, and Marco on her side and her team alive again. But she had none of those things, so her voice probably didn't sound as final as it ought to when she answered: "You know her mother doesn't like you talking to her.  
>- I'm not talking to her! I'm talking <em>with <em>her!  
>- Her mother maintains that she can't even speak." Meene's tone was monochord, and she tried to convey as much worry as possible. She didn't need the redhead to believe that she was going against her most direct orders on top of it all. "Sâti says you lie and she's afraid you're bullying her.<br>- She's eight years older than me! And I'm not lying. I know I'm not! Mom, Komeri does speak!" He had turned frantic. As he spoke, his arms flailed about like he tried to take flight. Obviously, not being taken for a liar seemed crucial to him. He always had a sense of justice, after all, and suffering from unfairness was what hurt him most.

_Just like his father._

The thought had flown like an unexpected arrow, right to where her heart was at its most tender. Her composure faltered, and suddenly she couldn't keep scolding the boy. "I trust you, Tonio, of course I trust you. But please, keep away from that white bird, okay?" Antonio nodded dejectedly. Meene let out another, smaller sigh and ruffled his straw-colored bangs. "Go to sleep, 'Tonio. I'll be joining you soon."

"Good night, mom.  
>- Good night, Antonio."<p>

The brunette watched as her son disappeared in his room. With a sigh, she let herself lean against the wall. Fatigue had crept upon her in silence, before suddenly pouncing on her; now she couldn't find it in her to go to Jareth, even if her arm hurt like hell under the plaster. Now that there wasn't anything left to consider – neither the possibility of Marco being alive, or Sâti changing minds, or… – well, the brunette had no power to stop her tired mind from going back to the events of the day. The faces of her fallen sprung before her eyes – _John and Kaito and Dresda and Nolan – _all those she'd led to death began to besiege her mind. _She had failed them_. She had failed them _all._ She had failed _Marco…_

Frustration and Despair took their place with the dead, bullying her into submission and bringing tears to her eyes. Before soon, she was staggering towards her room, an amber-colored glass in her right hand, chills coursing through her body. This all promised for a long night of unrest, but there was little she could do.

With a quick sip from her glass, the brunette pushed the door, and her vision faded to black.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. October fourteenth. 07:34.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle: Hane's chambers.**

The servant picked Hane up without a world, and led her to the bathroom despite her growing protests. Jeanne's gaze followed them as she frowned, but she could not get up and interrupt the process due to a special _someone_ hanging over her. Reluctantly, she stayed put, and threw invisible daggers at the someone in question.

Hao had decided that it would be amusing to enter Hane's room uninvited, 'playfully' pounce on her, block her beneath him and observe her like he was going to say, or do, something incredibly stupid, or cruel, or both. So there she was, lying on the decidedly too cold floor, fighting back the urge to roll her eyes or just teleport away and deal with the pain from the seal afterward. It couldn't be all that bad, could it…?

"You can't wear those clothes forever," he finally remarked, his fingers abusing the fabric of her clothes. "They'll end up stinking whatever you do. Why don't you change? I'm sure there are dresses that would fit you in your dresser."

Jeanne blinked a few times. She had been thinking stupid, but that was… What was he ranting about _now_?

"Too many reasons.  
>- Develop, I'm fascinated," he purred. That earned him naught but a cold stare.<p>

"One. I don't wear such colors. Two. Have you looked at those things? They would stop me from even walking. Three. You probably picked those yourself, so that's a no. And four? They're ridiculous. Want me to continue? No, wait. I found the real reason. ** I don't care at all about clothes because I **_**am not your baby doll.  
>- <strong>_But you'd be so cute in those," he pouted.

"Hao," she shook her head, feeling a heavy sigh threaten to pass the barrier of her lips, "stop playing your games. I'm not interested."

He stared owlishly. "You would like this way less if I was serious.  
>- Why are you here?"<p>

He gave her an owlish look. At least, it started as owlish, before turning slightly dark. His hand fisted in her jacket, and instinctively she stiffened.

"I know what you are doing, Jeanne."

Her mouth went dry suddenly, though she managed to keep her face straight. So she was right. Lyanne had been a prop and she'd fallen right into the trap. Great. Now what? He would try and hurt her? Completely unoriginal. And inefficient, she might add. Nonetheless, she repeated, apparently innocuous: "… What I am doing…?  
>- Don't play dumb, it won't work." All laziness had disappeared from his tone. " Keep away from your former friends, directly or indirectly. Lyanne…<br>- Who?"

Hao paused, his features turning into a light scowl, as if he were scolding a young child. That always ticked her off.

"Humor me, Jeanne. The girl who takes care of your daughter.  
>- Oh, yes." Disdain rang clear as she added, "what of her?<br>- She suddenly decided Rutherford was her best friend."

Faking surprise wasn't all that hard. Some part of Jeanne was even genuinely astonished the whole thing wasn't one of his ploys, and that Lyanne was seemingly playing along her plan. In fact, she was so surprised that she almost missed the next words the brunette uttered: "Lyanne has no business with a Pache.  
>- Your Lyanne who is supposed to help Hane is putting her constantly in danger, she's good for nothing. What she does in her free time is of no matter to me. And well, from what I remember," she affected the most vague, uncaring tone she could manage, "the Pache girl was quite accustomed to dealing with difficult children. She can't be worse than your Barbie."<p>

Hao's stern expression turned into a slight, discreet smirk as he gauged her from above. She wasn't quite sure she'd played the part as well as they could have wished, but it would have to do. There wasn't enough time for him to do much about it anyway…

The brunette shook her out of her thoughts by tugging slightly at a lock of silver hair he had inconspicuously twirled around one of his fingers.

Jeanne didn't wince, and left him time to notice just that. Apparently not disturbed in his game, the Shaman King answered, purposefully vague: "She's only tried once. She'll learn."

She scoffed. "She made Hane throw a tantrum. If I hadn't been there… Only Rya knew how to help Hane. She knew more than your Lyanne ever will."

Hao considered her for a moment. His eyes, usually full of mirth or fire, were completely opaque right then, and despite staring back at him Jeanne couldn't guess what he was plotting. Instinctively, her body stiffened, and she gritted her teeth. "What now?  
>- If I gave her back to you, would you stop fighting me?"<p>

For a long while, Jeanne did nothing but stare at him. Surprise was almost sole sovereign over her features, and Hao's smirk grew wider. "If you brought back to me one ghost when you killed billions of humans? … can you even do that?"

A free, mocking laugh erupted from his chest. Really, she had been away for too long.

"I can do everything, dearest."

It was hard to say whether she trusted him on that or not, and it became harder as the silence stretched between them, only interrupted now and then by the crackling and hissing of furyoku sparks. Finally, as if reaching a decision, Jeanne whispered:

"… Bring her back. Bring her back now."

His chocolate eyes narrowed down slightly, and a sharp tug reminded her of her place. "Already ordering me around?  
>- I'll do what you want. Hane needs her." Her voice didn't waver, veritable chunk of ice. Too bad he kind of had the habit to dwell into fires.<p>

He laughed again, letting go of her hair. Now he seemed more interested in offering a fake tender caress to her cheek before finally straightening up. "Your ghost will be around in the afternoon."

He stood, nodded at the servant who just brought Hane back, and watched as Jeanne soothed her ruffled child. Really, he didn't get it. The kid was useless and obtuse, and yet the once great Iron Maiden seemed content just taking care of her…

It was a bad habit of her, he supposed. She always had to take an underdog under her wing and care for it, even if it was the dumbest piece of trash walking the earth – _hum Marco hum _ – even if that meant putting herself into danger. To soften the situation, she of course added her own delusions – _it's the right thing to do, after all he/she loves me, and he's right, he's always right, if I have the power to give him the wings he needs to do as he wishes I'll do just that…_

Tchh. He hated it. He…

Suddenly there was a blank, and then _he_ had the control again. Jeanne had half-risen, Hane had stopped muttering, and a hammer was pounding on his mind, repeatedly, like it was trying to get free – and, for all intents and purposes, it was.

Why had it happened now? He hadn't even tried to push his brother away. He was supposed to sleep till night came, so he could see Anna and relieve her to an extent, but certainly not during the day! Worse, it seemed he was already losing his grasp on reality…

"Keep him from knowing," he gasped, and the second he saw Jeanne's uncomprehending stare he just _knew_ she wouldn't manage to. It was too late to explain anything anyway, and he gave into the too strong mental pull, gasping as his knees gave way – unable to stop himself from thinking of Anna.

Hao rose, seconds afterwards – just in time to stop an attack of the albino, who was certainly not going to let such an opportunity vanish before her eyes. His own gaze was blackened by a dangerous mix of perplexity and fury.

"What just happened?" If Jeanne was scared by the tone of his voice she certainly didn't show it. Instead, placing herself between the child and his father, she hissed: "I don't want to know. Out."

Hao didn't want her to think he would obey like a good puppy; but he was worried. Oh, not for his personal well-being – the first person to kill him would be awarded his eternal gratitude (before he killed that person for attacking him, of course, but nonetheless)– but he was worried about what those blackouts meant. And he was determined to find out; which meant he would have to leave Jeanne for a second.

Of course, it also meant investigating the reason why he'd been thinking of Anna when he regained consciousness – which was why his steps took the path to the dungeons. The almost-widow of his brother was, by the looks of it, linked to those – and if she was responsible in any way, he would be delighted to make her pay.

Anna crawled to the other side of the cell when he entered it, and one look at her told him the stress created by Rowana's invocation would be the end of her in no time. Not that it mattered anymore. He didn't even know why he had allowed the ever-defiant blond to live. What stopped his arm, metaphorically speaking, was surely not the emotional qualms he had in Jeanne's case, and not once had Anna accepted to cooperate before he'd forced her. He could have found any other Itako for the task of restraining his little albino…

… But something in him had allowed Anna to go on living anyway, and now he was, perhaps, on the verge of finding her true utility.

Anna's low moans went ignored as the Shaman King searched for further proof of his being in the room. The cell underwent his careful examination. It was quite not so dimly-lit as one could have imagined; so the brunette didn't have much trouble in his task.

There were footprints in the dust, but since Anna moved through her cell and Jeanne had stepped inside, it didn't mean much. Likewise, the way the locks were kept in pristine condition was one of his own requirements, so it didn't matter either. However…

Hao stepped over to the place which had caught his eye. Slowly, he bent, and picked up that small patch of red fabric. The very same fabric his kimono was made of. The spiritual guards that watched over his two _very important prisoners_ – the ones who had warned him that Jeanne was in there the day before – had no way to leave such traces of their passages. And he was the only one to wear this shade of red.

The Shaman King rose, and called, his voice soft and dangerous.

"Anna."

She was on the other side of the cell, mumbling through her fever. He repeated his call, louder this time, but she still didn't seem to heed it, so he walked until he was right in front of her. She smelled of sweat. Ugly duckling.

"Anna, have I been visiting you often these past days?"

His voice stayed rather cool and collected, as if he wasn't the same mass-murdering evil man that had probably definitely poisoned her with a rotting soul's curse. He had decided to play 'nice' with the poor girl whose death was near. Anna tried, she tried so hard to raise her chin and defy him and give him the kick he deserved, but the pain was too great, and the longing too strong. "Please, please, I just want to see Hana. She's killing me Hao, Rowana is destroying me. I'll die, I'll die, I just want to see him…"

His voice turned cold. "I thought you had learned to just answer my questions." He caught her then, by the neck, his long strong fingers stopping the air and blood from going to her brains. She gasped, arms flailing –

Surprisingly, her mind seemed to clear itself. The fog of the fever vanished, leaving her with an acute perception of the world around her. The smell of blood and sweat in the room, Hao's warm hands around her throat, the shrilling sound that quieted any noise she might make…

This second she understood his question, and this second she knew she had to respond if she wanted to live. She gasped again, searching for breath –

"You came… a year… year after I was imprisoned."

Hao let go, and she fell to the ground, but she didn't stop speaking. "It was, it was during the night. Yes, you came at night." A shuddering breath. "I think you thought I couldn't see you but I did." Another. "Yes I did. I know I did. You've been here what, a dozen times, at night, always at night, what is it with you to come always at night? You never seem to think I can see you but I can. What is it you want? You want to rape me is that it? To have what he had. To get even with that shadow brother you never feel equal to." The clarity, the understanding, it all morphed back to meaningless mush. She was babbling now, hot tears coming back to rush down her cheeks as she shuddered and retched, "To prove you're as good as _Yoh_? You're not, I know you're not. I just want to see Hana!"

Hao wasn't looking at her. He wasn't looking at anything really, his black eyes cold and unfocused as he silently mouthed words. It was slowly dawning on him, the answer he'd been searching for months, and he couldn't help the birth of an expression between the scowl and the smirk. "At nights, you say…"

It was only then that he did notice the coughing, writhing mass at his feet. He was still rough as he seized her, half-dragging half-carrying her to the bed. "Rest," he ordered then, as he thoughtlessly wreaked havoc in the furyoku flows of the poor harassed woman. After a second, as if touched by generosity, he smiled, "I'll let you see that son of yours.

Anna felt with a painful acuity as her body obeyed to the Shaman King, and slowly sank into a dark void. He didn't disappear though, and long after her mind couldn't process it anymore his face stayed printed on her retinas.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. October fourteenth. 21:51.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Castle: Dungeons.**

"_Marco!" _He heard her call out for him, half-serious and half-teasing. Mindlessly, he smiled, one hand reaching out to graze her shoulder…

His eyes snapped open.

It wasn't him grazing Meene's shoulder, it was _someone _shaking _him _by his shoulders like he was some kind of highly-desirable-apples-filled tree. His instincts took control, and the muscles he'd pained himself to exercise day after day helped him both slap away the hand on his shoulder and throw to the ground its owner, before standing up in a whirl of white, ready to face…

… a startled frail-looking woman he'd never seen before. She looked as harmless as anyone he'd ever seen in this place.

"Who –  
>- Quiet!"<p>

It was not his attacker who had hushed him – in the most rude manner – but another woman, standing on the edge of his cell. She was carrying a child in her arms, but he could distinguish no features under the heavy folds of dark fabric that covered the two. He was already trying to speak again, but this time the unknown girl at his feet was quicker.

"We are leading you back to the Resistance on one of your friends' behalf. Now keep silent and follow us, we don't have the time to chat."

Frowning, the blondie absently helped her to her feet. Nodding once, she led him out before giving him a large, dark shroud to hide beneath. That would not do.

"To hide is for the weak," he protested. If he could, he would go right to Hao's chambers and imagine for him some quaint, gory death… and if he couldn't, he certainly would 'not' be seen like such a coward.

"To die is for the fools," snapped the other woman. He half-thought he didn't know her, but now that he was close to her he recognized Anna. Anna Kyoyama, the fiancée of Hao's brother, one of the reasons he was there to start with. She was visibly strained, shaking slightly as she walked by.

The sleeping child in her arms especially stirred his curiosity. Despite the folds of fabric that hid her small form, he could distinguish the relatively long mane and fairy-like features of a girl. His last meeting with Anna, though hazy and half-wiped from his memory by the insanity-inducing loneliness of the last two years came to mind… she'd mentioned a son. That he remembered well. A pale-haired, young son, so very like his, or at least that was how he'd imagined him. As the solitary months had passed, the blondie somehow started to confuse the two, and cling to them both.

Which could, to an extent, explain his confusion. The two half-imagined, half-remembered characters that kept him company in his cell weren't in accordance to this new little being. Who was she?

"Next stop at Ruth's," whispered the unknown blonde, snapping his mind out of his thoughts.

Silent as shadows, fast as breezes, the small assembly snuck through the castle, taking a series of small corridors and dusty, forgotten doors that Lyanne had opened in advance. Thanking each and every god she knew – and even some she didn't – each time they cleared a new hall without seeing anyone, the petite woman threw peeks at her two companions. Anna's arms were nearly trembling under Hane's weight, and Marco was soon forced to support her as they walked side by side.

As soon as she felt the cool air of dusk Lyanne relieved the Itako of her sleeping burden. Once again, the blonde man tried to say something, but she hushed him. Through the blankets that kept Hane out of sight, she could feel the aura of the spirit that possessed her, and it seemed only to add to the weight of the child. If they failed to escape…

… No, not thinking about that now. There was still too much to do for her to think about it.

Surprisingly – or not so much – going through the obscure streets of Byrth proved itself way harder than exiting the castle. As Rutherford had overheard, the 'important' members of Hao's were gathered in New York to investigate Luchist's death, so the castle was mostly empty. But those who were only half involved during the tournament, like Namari, Magna or Nichrom… those were still in Byrth, prancing about freely in the city.

Jolly songs coming from Magna's house forced them to take a large deviation across streets that Lyanne didn't know all that well, and couldn't be sure were safe for them to dwell in. More than once, sounds of steps or voices forced them to retreat into darker alleys and less-than-pleasant-smelling ditches. Every second, Lyanne thanked the Gods Hane couldn't wake. A normal child would have been bad enough, but this girl was unpredictable and usually loud when upset. A wailing child would be the death of them, sure as day. Fortunately, Jeanne's spirit – Rya, she remembered - kept her nice and quiet.

"Rutherford's house is two blocks away," Anna whispered. "We're almost there."

Lyanne felt the bud of a smile touch her lips.

"Good. Let's keep the rhythm."

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. October fourteenth. 22:00.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Castle: Corridors.<strong>

Hao was content. Well, not _completely_ so, but enough to gently hum to himself as he walked down one of the numerous corridors of the castle. He would check on his daughter – who at the moment was with Lyanne – and then, maybe he'd finally be able to deal with his pesky twin. For him to still be clinging to life, after ten full years…

… He definitely needed a lesson, and Hao was determined to give him one he would remember. He and his fiancée would soon be together in hell, and he could finally be sure his body belonged to him and him alone.

Wait, what was…

A wave of furyoku nearly sent him to the wall. His instincts, that had warned him a split second too late, threatened to take over, but he soon realized there was no need. The Shaman King turned towards the source of the power… Of course, that had to be Jeanne. Smoothly, steeling his body against any new waves to come, and approached her room without as much caution as weariness. What card was she pulling out now?

Slowly, the brunette opened the door. Furyoku bled out of her in thick blue flows, filling the room and spilling out of the window. A new, gentler wave washed through him as he stood there, watching her. She herself didn't look at much of anything. Her large, ruby eyes rested unfocused on the plush she still held, and the dignity she'd been trying to maintain ever since he caught her in her den was all gone. Now, with her hunched shoulders and her naked feet that didn't even reach the floor, she looked much more like the powerless though kind soul he'd always seen.

Jeanne absently fingered with the small, bluish rabbit made of wool that was her daughter's favorite toy. She'd forgotten to give it to her… Hane would be disturbed…

The plan. Think of the plan.

She knew he was just in front of her. If she didn't react sometime soon, he might just stroll away, and he'd discover it all. She had to stand, and _distract _him. How was quite clear to her, but she lacked the willpower to actually carry it out. Pride was reluctant, and her Heart of Hearts was all against it – way too dangerous, dangerous, _dangerous_ - but Reason, though perhaps misguided by the need to save Hane and Rutherford and Marco…

The toy fell soundlessly to the floor as she stood, still staring at the ground. He still hadn't moved from the threshold. No way he'd make it easy for her, she could read this as if he'd written it out on the wall. Slowly, she made her way to him, hesitation giving way to determination.

Soon enough, she was in front of him. Her hands rose, as if mechanically, and came to rest against his chest. The albino shifted her weight on her toes, and brought him down by tugging at his kimono.

The kiss was short, and unsatisfying for the brunette, but that was way more than enough for him to make his move.

"I told you I'd do things you would never forget," he muttered, his eyes glinting smugly at his success. She offered him a single frown, bittersweet and wounded, before he captured her lips again, his energy reacting to hers like never before – safe for that particular night, of course. She was finally giving in, giving up; he had all the time in the world to rejoice at his own triumph.

That could perhaps explain why he passed his own ethereal guards without paying any kind of attention to them. No, he was way too occupied by the need to carry her to his own rooms and tear every possible article of clothing before they actually reached his door.

Even the Shaman King couldn't keep his thoughts in order when his ego (or perhaps his feelings?) was (were?) concerned.

* * *

><p><strong>Thursday. October fourteenth. 22:04.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
><strong>**Byrth – Town.**

Rutherford's door was not locked, and it opened silently at the lightest push of Lyanne's hand. Her small squad entered the house and quickly shuffled along the first hallway to the main 'teaching room', from which faint echoes of a soothing voice could be heard. Lyanne passed the threshold, and immediately felt uneasy as five little heads turned to watch her. The one nearest to her – which proved itself to be Opachô – actually jumped to his feet and peered at her from his – still relatively – short height. On the other side of the room, a certain blonde boy was sleeping against Lip, who absent-mindedly petted his head as she listened to Rutherford.

Anna walked up to the Pache girl, and gently took the boy against her. Lip frowned a little. "Aren't you supposed to be serving Hao-sama in Europe?"

The former Itako's eyes widened slightly, but she managed a small smile and said, in a slightly hoarse voice: "I came back. To check on my boy, you see?"

Rutherford stared at them for a few seconds, considering telling Anna to just shut up and be more careful, but gave up on it. "OK, end of story time everyone! Now is the perfect time for stargazing, who agrees?"

An excited shout came from Opachô, which in turn made the teacher's eyes narrow. He ought not to be so excited. He was nearly fifteen, but most of the time he only acted like a five-years-old, or nearly so… That would have to do with the way Hao raised him, no doubt, and this meant the Pache could not even try and control the damages. The African boy was spoiled rotten, allowed to do anything he wished, and god forbid – quite literally – that anyone even brought the smallest shadow of a tear on his plump cheeks. As a result, he was nearly as mature as any toddler could be deemed to be, and had nearly no empathy. Others' feelings and intentions passed high, high over his head. Really, Rutherford sometimes wished to just slap and lecture that stupid brat…

… Ah, she couldn't complain. He was the only one here that was 'really' on Hao's side. Hana and the Munzer kids were basically hostages, and her twin nieces would do as she ordered. That might be why Reoseb, despite sending her a thoughtful look, kept silent, and Rap simply came to help Lip stand up.

"Tonight we've got special permission," she went on, mainly for Opachô but also to furnish a basic excuse for everyone if they got caught (though if they were indeed caught she doubted they'd be given time to tell their story…), "thanks to the strong Shamans here with us, we can go up north to see the Aurora Borealis. So we'll use my submarine!"

Another, Opachian shout of joy echoed in the air, but the rest just quickly gathered. As Rutherford passed Lyanne, she muttered: "Keiko just wouldn't come. I don't think she'll go to Hao or anyone, but we should hurry," then, louder; "everyone, time to show your physical skills to me. Usually it's Chrom who trains you, so try to impress me – we can't wake up anyone at such an hour, right? So keep silent and follow the adults' orders."

In silence the children nodded, and in silence they stepped back into the cold. Given the size the group had grown to, it had of course lost in discretion, but Lyanne was reassured in that the teenagers were mostly silent. It probably had to do with the fact that Opachô (and the others too, but mostly him) had turned drowsy and sluggish, closer to the realm of dreams than to reality, but it didn't make of it any less a miracle. Soon they would be boarding the submarine and everything would be fin –

It was then Opachô said, "Other friends are coming! Is Hao-sama coming, too?"

Lyanne and Rutherford both went very still, and Marco almost bumped into the dark-haired Pache. The docks were within reach…

"Ok. We're running now," announced Lyanne in a hushed voice, to her three companions. "Kids, if we want to surprise the friends Opachô just heard, we need to hurry!" Some of the teenagers were becoming dubious, and scared, and even terrified, Rutherford saw it plain as day, but then Reoseb took the twins' hands, Seyram took Opachô's, and they followed without hesitation.

Soon their shoes were hammering on the quay, and the Pache Submarine appeared at its side. Rutherford wasted no time into opening the gate, and pushed the children inside without really caring for their safety. Sweat poured down her forehead, and even Opachô seemed to catch on what was happening. Fortunately, Marco and Anna followed right after, effectively blocking the way off.

Lyanne sent a distraught look behind them. She could hear the noise now, the slithering and the shouts that came from the sleeping city. They wouldn't make it.

"Lyanne!"

Rutherford's voice was clearly scared. The blonde hesitated for a split second still, then called : "Ruth ! Take the girl." The Pache girl sent her a look of disbelief and worry, but Lyanne was already placing the pale bundle of covers in her arms. She also took off her backpack and tossed it in the submarine. "There are things in that bag," she said hurriedly. "Important things. For the princess. Please read them. Find someone who can help."

Rutherford shook her head, still standing still when she should clearly be climbing inside her Over Soul, so Lyanne pushed her towards the entrance. "No time for doubts anyway. If you see Lady Jeanne again, please tell her I did my best, alright?"

There was a pause. Lyanne's eyes pleaded for her, speaking of all the tortures their pursuers had ready for them if they were all caught. Better losing one than all.  
>- Alright." Then the dark-haired woman entered her Over-Soul, disappearing from Lyanne's view as she pushed the door shut. It was Rutherford's job to lock it. It was Rutherford's job to take care of things now.<p>

Pushing back, the frail Shaman stood proud, calling her spirit in her medium before warily watching her surroundings. Behind her, she heard the submarine shift and creak as it moved off the deck and into the deep waters.

She had to slow them down. To give Ruth time enough to get the kids away. The blonde perfectly knew her Shamanic abilities were laughable.

_Better losing one than all._

At this hour, the streets were silent and black, and except the light of her Over-Soul she couldn't see anything, like a great wall of ink awaited her two steps away. Lyanne was weak, but certainly not enough to be oblivious to the approaching Shamans. Their energy was big enough to make the spirit on her side tremble.

There was no way she could win this battle, but she walked up to that black wall and stepped into the darkness without further hesitation.

Knives and spears welcomed her with open, cold arms.

_Better losing just one…_

* * *

><p><strong>Opachô :<strong> …. Opachô doesn't get much…. ?

**Rain :** Don't worry *pats his head* It's better for you not to get it anyway.

**Hao :** *stares intently*

**Rain :** Don't look at me like that ! It was Jeanne's idea!

**Jeanne :** *grits her teeth* coward...


	12. Waddling through bloody waters

**Chapter XII: Waddling through bloody waters**

**Author: **Rain

**Disclaimer:** Shaman King doesn't belong to me... I'm not making money out of it...

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 07:14.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Castle.<strong>

The air was sweet.

The air was sweet, she thought. At this altitude it should have been cold and harsh and scentless, but since Hane was gone Jeanne found herself imagining a sweet perfume of flowers in it. She stood straighter too, prouder knowing she had fooled the King and had acted accordingly to her resolution.

She was wearing one of his dresses now, a ruby red one, an intricate, almost Victorian one. An awfully showy one, she might have said, but after what had happened the night before it felt right, it felt normal to wear it. She was his now, body and soul, bound by his scent and his furyoku traces on her, and more promises than she felt able to deal with.

The Jeanne she was all those years ago had died that night. What she was now, what she was going to be and to do, the pale woman did not know. She did not even have the energy to think through the meaning of the night that just came to its end, let alone understand what consequences would unfold…

With a silent sigh, the albino leaned on the stone opening, studying the brightening skies in front of her. As the darkness of the night retreated, a soft, grey hue tinted the waters of the Pacific Ocean, creating a picture worthy of a painter. Too bad she had never held a brush, eh.

It was then Hao barged into the room, then that she knew they had succeeded. With a peaceful smile, she closed her eyes, unmoving, awaiting the storm with an infuriating calm.

Hao grabbed her arm roughly, his energy pulsing hot and fiery against her skin as he obviously kept himself from plainly bashing her head in the wall.

"Follow me." Oh that tone. And he thought he mastered subtlety? There was nothing subtle, nothing refined in that furious voice. It promised pain and violence, and yet the absurd blatancy of it all kept her from wavering. He should have known. He should have known. She wouldn't have fallen for nothing, he should have known she was stronger than that. He should have known _her _better. That was already enough of a reason for it to happen.

Through the corridors they went, him dragging and sometimes almost carrying her while she struggled to slow him down. Not that she wanted to flee, but because her dignity would not suffer this last insult. They ran down flights of stairs, hurried through empty rooms, and soon Jeanne realized he was taking her to the lowest levels of the castle, beneath even the large dungeons. She never had the time to call him out on it as they reached, at last, a large wooden door.

Behind them, Spirit of Fire suddenly appeared and grabbed Shamash.

"Hao –"  
>- Now see," he seethed while throwing her to the ground. She didn't grace him with a gasp as she connected with the stony pavement, pain striking in her hands and knees; no more than she did when she finally saw the result of his fury. "See what your stupidity has done, Iron Maiden."<p>

Jeanne stared at the mangled corpse that had once been Lyanne's body, but she didn't seem to see it. The albino bowed her head, muttering a quiet prayer for the blonde's soul. Her demeanor did not even show a hint of sadness.

After a few other seconds of silence, Hao spoke, his tone low.

"I never knew you had it in you."

Ah, now they were talking. The fury had melted – no, not melted, but it had grown more docile, more lethal, too. Maybe she preferred him furious. He was less predictable now. Not that she would care, anyway.

"You never knew many things about me to begin with. And you were the one to teach me that particular game." Her tone was dry, and remorseless, and unforgiving. Hard as steel.

"I never thought I'd regret it."

She smiled, pale and cold in the colder, dimmer cell. "You don't think much, do you?"

He almost _gasped_ him the great King, unable to bear the sting of so little an insult. She almost wished he could hear her thoughts now, just to have him see just how much she despised his attitudes and disillusions of grandeur.

"The dress… It fits you." A pause. The albino did not turn to look at him, though she felt him boil. "Make no mistakes; she's only the first to suffer from your follies. I'll get them back, and you'll watch as they die, all those little children you wanted to save so badly, little girl."

"I'm not a girl anymore. I'm your queen." She kissed it slightly, that pale and broken hand hanging limp from Lyanne's body, a gesture of gratitude she knew he would hate just as he hated her placid calm and composed voice. Her only light came from a small, flickering lamp on the wall, too high for her to reach; else she maybe would have tried to use it against him. As it stood, that possibility was to be forgotten.

Hao whirled around, his threatening steps growing quieter as he made his way back to the corridor. Jeanne didn't turn to watch him go, didn't even move from where she was on the floor. That was where she still was when he muttered, "for the best and the worst."

He didn't pause as he left, and closed the door before she could make the slightest move.

For a while, she just stared after him, then as if finally coming to her senses she retched. The mangled body was beginning to smell already, and the albino dragged herself away from it. But the odors seemed to follow her, and she found herself heaving, and heaving again, unable to stop. The nauseas had, she understood after a while, a deeper basis than just her physical reaction. It also had to do with her separation from her guardian spirit. He had taken Shamash, and with him all her hopes of comfort and real light. The separation from her beloved Guardian was already hard on her and he wasn't even twenty meters away – it would only get harder, and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. Already she felt faint…

She was still crawling away from her dead companion when her hand bumped into something, something that seemed to almost protest loudly. Turning, Jeanne pushed her findings towards the light.

It was a small, ornate box.

The puzzled albino looked it over. In the faint light of the dying lamp on the wall, she could distinguish wooden pieces in the box, pieces that were in fact golden letters. Perfectly smooth, light pieces, nothing that could be used as a weapon. Innocent letters, like the ones you would give a child…

Suddenly a wave of panic knocked her over, and she pushed the pieces with a renewed energy, It was hard to see which piece was which, but she trusted her fingers to recognize each shape, searching, searching –

The cold hard truth finally dawned on her.

There was no "j" in the box.

There was everything, from "h" to "m" to "z", but no "j". She couldn't spell her name with those letters. In her home language, "I" was spelled "je". The intent was clear. He didn't want her to be able to cling to them, he wanted her to get lost in the sinuous curves of those letters, to forget her identity so he could forge her another, more suitable one.

Jeanne bit her lip. Oh, it wouldn't be an immediate issue. It probably would take months, or years of isolation, before she felt the effects of that one trick. It looked ridiculous, and improbable. But she knew such tortures might just work on her, with the right amount of isolation, the right amount of madness-inducing tricks. The mere presence of the letters showed he meant to keep her there, as long as it would take.

Jeanne crawled away from the box, huddling herself in a corner. There was a blanket there, an old and dusty one. It made her cough and did not give her much warmth, so she decided she would use it to cover Lyanne's body.

Later, though. At the moment she felt too cold, too weary, too scared to. The game he had prepared for her chilled her very bones and paralyzed her mind. The only thing she clung to, the only thing that kept her warm – it was the idea that Hane had been safely whisked away, along with Marco, and Anna, and all the others Rutherford had managed to take with her. They were all saved now.

They were all gone, now.

She was on her own, and Hao had decided to tame her. To turn her into his doll. To break her.

There was little doubt he would be able to do so.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 08:21.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Castle.<strong>

Emerging from the lower cells was not a thing that happened to a lot of people. In fact, the Shaman King was quite sure he was the only one to have ever made the voyage and returned sane - except the quiet helpers, that was for sure - and he wondered just how long it would take until Jeanne learned her lesson.

The endless flights of stairs spiraled upwards, and always upward, enough to make any normal person dizzy and weak. That, combined to the darkness of the depths, would be enough to make the lucky exception scared of ever having to make it again. Light was scarce, only provided by elemental spirits that gathered around Shamans. They were quiet enough in front of Hao, that was for sure - but the unfortunate prisoner who managed to escape would suffer their cruel pranks and risk his or her life at each new step.

Hao could as easily have teleported away from the cells directly to the throne room, but his feet liked the exhaustion, and his spirit could use the calming monotony. Fury in him had been a blaze, fiery tongues of stupid hurt and betrayal had dictated his words to Jeanne, which had been mistakes, all of them mistakes, and he couldn't very well do them again in front of his troops. The warm spirits around him chirped anxiously from the weight of those past feelings alone...

As he grew closer to the throne room, a light buzz began to reach his ears. Or, to be closer to the truth of the matter, a growing brouhaha that proved how agitated the troops were. Rumors had gotten the time to run through them - with Lyanne's body Namari took to his feet, with Magna's arrest, the disappearance of the little ones, it was bound to happen, and it was best; that more agitated, angry they were, the easier they would be to turn against their enemies. Not that he needed such an ascendant on them though; only the most loyal of his people had been asked to come. Good times.

Hao appeared in a blaze of flames on the throne. That arrival, in no way discreet, transferred everyone's attention to him, to his greatest satisfaction. For a while, he studied the small crowd, his dark gaze making sure to catch and hold each pair of eyes for a few seconds. Directly in front of him were the three Hanagumi, leaning on each other as if they would fall from the first gush of wind.

Close, the fatherly Turbein, who stared at Kanna for a very long time before meeting his lord's eyes, discreetly elbowed by his neighbor. Said neighbor was the still pale and still ill-looking Ashiru, who had insisted to come to the meeting. Farther on were the men: Bill, Blocken, Yamada, Boris... And then there were the Paches. Magna, but Magna only, was absent: both rewarded for killing one of the traitors and punished for letting slip from his fingers the rest of them, he was currently resting in one of the castle's cells, as Hao pondered his fate. And finally, at the end of the hallway stood Keiko, his dear Keiko Asakura, who looked like she might throw up and leant awkwardly on the wall. With her, he was not kind, though she had been the one to warn the Paches of Rutherford's plans; a harsh glance made her stand straight and bow slightly towards him. "Better," he mouthed towards her.

Finally, everyone was focused, and Hao knew he could begin his little speech. "I assume most of you know what happened last night. When all our brave warriors were asleep, when only weaklings would think to strike, former Priest Rutherford, with the help of one of late Luchist's protégés, freed two dangerous prisoners – Anna Kyoyama and Marco Maxwell – before kidnapping our most gifted teens. Among them, my daughter, as well as the Pache twins, and," he exhaled softly, "Opachô."

The sheer shock of his companions was exactly what he expected; contorting his face in a similar saddened expressions, he nodded to confirm his words. "I believe nothing more needs to be said of the odious facts. I want you, my companions, to find this little ragtag group. I want you to free our dear Opachô and my daughter, as well as the Pache twins and Hana, who were obviously taken against their will." A loud chitter of agreement forced him to pause, which he did with a calm smile. He had them well in hand; he only had to say the words and they would react just the way he wanted them to. "The other threats to our kingdom linked to this whole debacle - by which I mean Anna Kyoyama, her child, Marco Maxwell, the former Pache priest Rutherford and late Mikihisa's little protégées - I want them gone. I want a safe world for you and the rest of our population; this can't happen when kidnappers randomly snatch the youngest of us."

A new pause. He always had a certain gift to discern when to add dramatic emphasis, and now was one of those times. "I think we all know, we people in there, that Opachô is really dear to my heart. This child - most of you have known him since he fit in my palm."

There was something like an invisible wave passing through his ranks, mostly the closest. His teams from the tournament felt the most for the kid. Most of them had taught him something. That last offense, added to the loss of Luchist and the beatings Ashiru had suffered, was not only a matter of pride to them, no. Their family had been attacked, mauled. They would maul back. Hao bit back a smirk, and went on.

"What I mean is that I want this event to be the Resistance's last move, friends." His voice had steadily grown, to reach the cruise rhythm of his best speeches. "I want to be able, less than a month from now, to say the Resistance is no more. I want to be able to say, proudly, that we punished the Shamans foolish enough to challenge our authority. Can we all agree on that?"

The loud cheering told him he had reached their hearts. Good. "Now go forth, and be victorious!"

The noise that filled the throne room would have been enough to deafen weaker ears. As it stood, Hao only allowed himself a smile, and sent off his minions. Their group leaders would run the operations as they wished; he trusted them all to be quick and efficient.

Once even Keiko had left, Hao sighed, then strode towards the window. He knew who lurked in the shadows, who had been hidden there the whole time. - this without needing to hear the slithering sound that occasionally came from there and had scared Keiko off as she moved towards the door.

"Your master sent you," he began quietly, barely above a whisper. The figure nodded, kneeling at the frontier between the shadows and the light. He knew not to expect of her any word that Namari had not placed there, so he did not bother taunting her - but he had to admit the Pache had done quite the excellent work. "You know what to do," he finally muttered, dismissing her with a hand's gesture. Dolls were upsetting, when they were so completely inert. And irritating, now that he thought about it. "She is in the lower cells. Everything is ready for your intervention."

The figure bowed again as she stood, a savage smile on her lips, before slithering out of the room, and Hao was finally alone once more.

Not once did he compare the silent shadow's fate to the one he was forcing on Jeanne. Maybe he should have.

* * *

><p><strong>Friday. October fifteenth. 09:32.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Pacific Ocean?<strong>

Under the dark waters of the Pacific Ocean, the submarine gently pushed on, invisible to the world and its pursuers. The whole group had been huddled in the navigation center during the first two hours. No one spoke.

The three sleepers were all watched over cautiously, all for very different reasons. Anna's gaze as she tended to her son was full of maternal worry; Rya's gentle shushing of a Hane sometimes on the brink of consciousness held both love and worry for what happened if she woke up and threw a tantrum – and Marco's cold, obsessive watch over the knocked out Opachô sustained itself only on reason and hard spite.

Rutherford was, luckily, left in peace. Navigating the ship and keeping it hidden from other Shamans' probing was hard enough with the help of the other Priests; on her own, it was exhausting. Thankfully, plenty of thoughts drifted through her mind, keeping her alert and fresh. That may have been why, once they reached the middle of their trip, she remembered she had yet to deal with one of their biggest issues. Hane. Quietly, the Pache Priest told the teenagers to get out. She sent Marco as well, to keep them off her back. He wasn't very enthusiastic at the idea, but silently he complied, told that she needed all her strength to get them to safety. Even he wasn't so much of a fool to throw their chance away for an argument... At least that was what Rutherford hoped. Rya, too, went, to keep Hane calm and hidden from the curiosity of her peers - but though the Itako would have gone too, anxious the second Hana was taken from her, a word from Rutherford kept her in the navigation center of the submarine. The blonde merely watched, full of longing, as the others left, catching the look of a silent Seyram, refusing to respond to Reoseb's gentle "see ya".

As soon as the two were completely alone, Rutherford went to the door, and closed it, checking one last time no one was listening. Then, she grabbed Anna's emaciated face into her palms, forcing her to come into focus. "Anna. Anna."

Said Anna frowned. "What...?"

"I need your help. You understand that, right? I need your help." She insisted on each word, aware of the trouble she would have to go through before getting the blonde woman to understand her intentions, aware at the same time that this issue needed to be solved before she could speak with the others. The puzzled, weary, disinterested stare Anna opposed to her words only strengthened her idea: she had to make sure the blonde girl knew what was what. "Anna, listen to me. You have two children. You had twins. Can you remember that for me?"

The blondie frowned visibly, disturbed by the idea. "What...? No...

- You had twins," Rutherford's voice had grown imperious. "You named the boy Hana, he was so strong, so brave. And then you had a girl, whom you named Hane, because she was so light, so fragile." Her voice never faltered, she did not sound hesitant, she seemed to believe whole-heartedly in that great lie, because she knew she had to convince her companion, had to convince her or Hane would never be safe.

"I...

- Hao took that girl from you. You thought he killed her, but he didn't.

- I don't think...

- Hane, the child you carried yesterday, you've seen her, she's Yoh spitting image, your long-lost daughter. Her eyes are a mere biological oddity, she's yours, it's obvious. Her autism makes of her a stranger to other children, even her own brother probably, but you don't care about that, right? You got her back. Hane's your daughter and you love her." Slowly her voice had lost all sense of urgency, disintegrating into a soothing, hypnotizing tone. Again and again she repeated the words, and still Anna kept silent.

The blonde Itako blinked so very hard, unable to find why exactly Rutherford's words created such unease and confusion in her stomach. "I love...

- Both of your twins equally. You hear me, Anna?"

She frowned, and stared at Rutherford for a long time. Finally,

"Of course I do."

Rutherford sighed in relief. That base was covered. The two women then spoke some more on other, minor issues. Anna's concentration came and went with the fever, and Rutherford began silently to pray the X-Laws had good healers.

"We will reach the Australian coast in the next half hour," Rutherford finally said. "Once there, we will need to move immediately, least we get spotted or attacked by wild animals. I had packed tents and everything we need for this type of events, but with the kids to carry it's not going to be easy."  
>- Hana will obey me," Anna added, with a voice that would not admit contradiction. "What of the twins?<br>- I can't be sure," groaned the Pache nervously. "At their age, they should have seen through our plan effortlessly, but the way they've been educated here, they've become dumb and obedient. Rap should be okay. Lip I can't tell."  
>"I know where we can stay until tonight," Marco's voice echoed behind them. "Just let me help you."<p>

Under Marco's directions, the submarine quietly floated down the coast, only to stop in front of what appeared to be a mere barren stretch of land, similar to all the other stretches of land Australia had graced their view with. The trio of sleepers, constituted by the still out cold Opachô and the two smallest kids, had been tended to by Rya and Anna during the rest of the voyage. The Itako was the one to carry Hana even now, though her legs wobbled under their combined weight, though her breath was so terrifyingly irregular. The muddy shoreline swallowed one of her shoes, and without Seyram's quick reflexes she would have fallen head first into the dirt. Since then, teenager and woman walked side by side, without a word. Reoseb wasn't far either; the teenager carried Hane dutifully, without a word of complain, mostly thanks to his Fusion with the sullen Rya.

Marco jumped from the submarine's deck without grace or ease, and without anyone to help him, fell on his back in the water. Without the time to assess the situation correctly, he simply stood back up, grabbing the unconscious Opachô from Rutherford's hands to place him over his shoulder. Said Rutherford was exhausted, and yet she kept in mind that their troubles were far from over. With heavy arms she helped her two cousins down from the deck, before sliding down herself and erasing the vehicle's existence.

Of course, the teens had all more or less realized that something was up, but as of now they still stuck to their teacher's side. Reoseb and Seyram's silent agreement with the situation was easily explained, but the dark-haired woman felt her cousins would not be so easy to convince. Sure, Hao had killed off their dear Silva, but they had been kept from that knowledge...

After some more trudging in the muddy shores, the group, led by Marco, discovered that what seemed to be an innocent, dusty hill hid abandoned apartments, probably some sort of ancient "architectural project" the burgeoning twenty first century had been so fond of. Anna, Reoseb and Marco laid their burdens on a very large, beaten-up bed, and soon the conscious members of the expedition were gathered in an adjacent room.

Rutherford felt the call of sleep. Her joints ached; her head pounded with each breath. However, she was the only one able to tell each of them what was what, and so she had to speak.

"As you've seen during the trip, we are short one member." Not quite the best way to start such a speech, but her hurried "Lyanne will be with us soon" to a distressed Lip needed correction. "What I have to say is mostly for you, my little ones, but you should all listen up," she also insisted, catching the way Anna's gaze drifted aimlessly.

"Lyanne had to stay behind in Byrth. She had to, because Hao's men had discovered we were gone, and were coming to get us back. So she stayed behind to keep them off our backs. To be honest with you, I think Lyanne is now dead."

Rap's eyes widened. Seyram straightened up. Marco stubbornly refused to meet any of the children's gazes; Rutherford would have screamed at him if she had the strength. They all needed an adult's reassurance, and Anna was far from being able to do that. Empathically, she squeezed Lip's hand into hers.

"That is to say what we did - what we are doing - is not a game, everyone. For a long time now we have lived there, and I know some of you had friends in Hao's people. However, that is now over. If you see people from Byrth, it's hide or run. Don't wait around for a pat on the head."

This time, all the faces had turned serious.

"So it *was* a planned escape," Rap whispered quietly, while Reoseb's traits twisted into incomprehension. "If it was - why didn't you bring Keiko? She ought to be here with us!"

Rutherford could sense the fear in his voice, hidden behind layers of anger. She had to keep him from upsetting the others, from spreading panic. Staring him down, the Pache let her voice turn ice cold.

"You will calm down, young man. I offered Keiko a place on the submarine in advance. Everything was prepared for us to depart with us. She never came. There was no time to look for her.  
>- No time? Are you kidding me? You left her alone in front of Hao, for fuck's sake! Who knows what he will do to her now, and all that because you refused to risk your sorry ass to save her?<br>- Sit down," her voice was louder now, angrier too. Who was he to say she was a coward? Who was he to judge her, who was he to decide he had the right to protest when he didn't know anything, the little brat -

No." His voice was just as angry and firm as hers was, only less tired. His hands were fisted against his side, and she caught from the corner of her eye the sight of him pushing away Seyram's calming embrace. That was the last straw.

"You will sit," she hissed, rising to her full height, which was still more than his at his age. Her Guardian appeared at her side, dark and dangerous, while Goldova's former ghost growled sourly. Both spirits were ready to fight, and each of them would be enough to destroy the Guardian-less Reoseb. Despite all that he stared still for a time.

Then, slowly, he lowered himself to sit back down, but it was obvious he was ready to spring again.

"You will sit, Reoseb," she repeated one last time, "and you will know the rest of the story. I was scared to risk my sorry ass, was that what you said? I'm going to tell you what I was scared of. Oh yes I will. You will know, Reoseb, that this escape was only possible because Jeanne, the leader of the X-Laws that he is obsessed with, sacrificed herself for us. She stayed behind, and she will probably suffer Hao's wrath for it, but she did it anyway, for you all! What I was scared of? It was that her sacrifice was in vain, that we should all be caught and killed despite the enormous mass of things she agreed to lose for us!"

That speech stunned Reoseb into silence. However, it made Marco pale, so pale one might fear he would faint. However, the only word he managed out was, "Jeanne...?"

"I will tell you everything later, Marco," the Pache said, anger still seeping through her voice. Her eyes were still stuck on the teenage boy, and she shook with anger, anger and despair. "As I said, this is no game we are playing. One mistake, one lost minute, we lose someone. You will not ruin everything with your bratty ways, not when Jeanne gave so much, not when Lyanne died so you could live. Because no mistake: they can and will kill you on sight. So hide and run. You all understand? Don't even try to fight. Run, hide, and run again."

There was a long pause then. The three girls were all petrified. Rap held Lip in her arms to keep her from shaking. Seyram, for once, was looking intently at her, focused:

"So now..." Rap's voice was hesitant, as if she feared waking up Rutherford's fury once again. " ... We are going to the X-Laws hideout, is that it...?"

The Pache turned to look at Marco, her eyes narrowed. He was still staring at her, dumbfounded.

"Yes," she said.

* * *

><p><strong>Rain :<strong> finallyyyy...

**Hao :** Eh. Finally I make sense.

**Rain : **Ugh. Stupid connexion doesn't work...


	13. And suddenly, Joy

**Chapter XIII : And suddenly, joy  
>Author :<span>** Rain**  
>Disclaimer:<span>** Nothing belongs to me here… Except the OCs.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October sixteenth. 03:21.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Australia.<strong>

Without Marco, they would never have made it. From the entrails of the hide-out they were in, he dug out a splendid car and several emergency jerry cans of oil. "We keep babies like this one all over the land for such hard times," the blondie explained to a flaggerbasted Reoseb. "I don't have the keys though, so it'll take me some time to wake her up." They used that time to get in the car, which due to their sheer numbers wasn't so easy. Luckily it was a seven-seats car, and so with some squeezing the four teenagers, two children, three adults and one hostage were all set. Opachô was lying down between two rows and both Hana and Hane were sitting on the Pache twins' knees, but everything else was fine. True to his word, Marco managed to start up the car, and off they were as the moon began to rise. It was only a small crescent, they had that luck at least; the noise the car made was enough for them to get caught without a spotlight above their heads.

On and on they went, down brown dusty roads that never seemed to end. Marco let no one replace him as driver, and never showed a hint of drowsiness, long after all the teenagers were snoozing against each other.

Briefing Marco was nowhere as easy as Anna had been. Rutherford did not know what tortures Hao had invented for his almost-sister-in-law, but he apparently had not deemed Marco dangerous enough to make him undergo the same thing, and as a result, he was very much sane and able. Probably less of a hothead than he used to be, probably a bit distant, but still sane.

"Jeanne is in Byrth," were his first words. "She is there and I am not. How did he ever manage to hide her from me? I looked everywhere. I searched everywhere and I still did not find her...  
>- Marco... This is not for me to answer."<p>

He looked at her, blue piercing eyes trying to read between the lines of her speech. He was never good at that, though. Luckily. "You know what happened?"

Rutherford looked away, through the window, calculating and thinking of how much she could tell, how much he could know. "What I do know is not, certainly not what you want or need to know. Please understand me. We all have our burdens: I chose to agree and help Jeanne salvage you, all of you prisoners and hostages. Just know that you were the first name Jeanne ever uttered."

A silence. She frowned. "Don't you have any other questions?"

He kept silent at first, as if having a hard time thinking through what he was going to say. "The kid. Who is she? I know why we brought Hao's brat, I know the other kids were from the tournament. But why her? Who is she?"

Rutherford was waiting for such a question. She expected it, and so answered, almost right away: "She... She is the same as Hana, to be exact. She is his twin. No, don't interrupt me. I know you only ever heard Anna speak of her son. I know. But this kid - Hane - she was different. From her birth she was, ah, weird. Even now she is still quite odd, and particularly, she is not a shaman. I guess Hao wanted to observe such an oddity for himself - or even hide it from us, as it appears that even his blood and his soul is not enough to guarantee a shaman kid. So he hid her from her mother, saying she was dead."

Marco blinked. Once. Twice. Then a large, nervous smile overcame his face. "We can use her, Rutherford. That's fantastic! The lost princess of the Shaman Kingdom, daughter of Hao's own brother, and hated by that so-called King because she's not a Shaman. So shamanism, like we always said, isn't blood-related. And he made an exception for her, didn't kill her – hypocrisy, plain ugly hypocrisy, of course!"

Rutherford frowned. "Marco..."

He looked at her for a spare second, before looking back to the road. "What?

- You can't do that. She's frail and so very small, we have to protect her, not put her in the spotlight. The publicity you want, it would bring Hao right here, where no one of us wants to be found. He'll kill her," she lied hurriedly. "It's a bad idea all around.

- Bad idea?

- Worst ever," she confirmed.

"Ok. We'll talk about it later, I suppose - oh, careful."

A tire drove over a few pebbles, throwing everyone off balance. The blondie pushed on the brakes, and soon he could see the whole road ahead was covered in small pieces of debris. "Maintaining the roads used to be a top priority. Guess they fell on hard times... I'll go slower. Pache, get some sleep, we still have at least an hour to go."

And Rutherford did her best to obey.

After some more time spent driving on the mediocre road, Marco snapped his fingers, getting Rutherford's attention as he prepared to leave the main road. "Almost there. Wake the teens up, else they might hurt themselves." Indeed, the small pathway he'd turned in was covered by debris and stones, shaking and throwing about the little group despite the low speed at which Marco tried to remain. Pebbles jumped at the sides of the car, making enough noise to wake everyone up. Only the two youngsters and the hostage stayed asleep, probably because spirits kept them under. Good. No need for yet another hurdle in their way. Finally, Marco engaged the vehicle in a small, apparently man-carved cave on the side of a red hill. Parking the car, the blondie wearily stretched before standing up, going a few feet further, and hiding the key inside a false, hollowed-out pebble. Then he got back, and helped the children out of the car. Reoseb blinked warily. "Where are we...?

- Not far," smiled Marco.

"Are you sure? I can't see anything that could hide a house in front of us, let alone an entire military complex.  
>- That's because you're not looking at the right level, Pache," he replied. "But this is why we've never been found, so I guess it's fine you can't see it." Going back to the entrance, he turned until he was facing the slowly-rising sun of dawn, counted twenty steps. Then he got to his knees. The others followed, a bit confused. "We try to keep those clean, but sometimes a little sand gets over it. Nothing big. Workers make sure they stay practicable," he explained as he pushed away handfuls of red dust. "Ah, there."<p>

He was looking at a large valve, obviously reddened on purpose to mingle with its surroundings. Pushing it open was hard, it took him several tries, he was chocking, but soon he had it open. The blondie then pulled up the metallic door, holding it open with a wooden stick. "Rutherford, you go first. Make sure everything's safe down below. Then we'll hand you the babies and our hostage."

The brunette hastily complied, though she wasn't very sure the ladder she was going to use was stable. Trusting Marco, however, was not a choice; she thus climbed down silently. The descent was terrifyingly long to her taste. "Marco," she called from down below, "we won't be able to just throw and catch the sleepers. It's too deep and dark. I can barely see you anymore.  
>- Fine," he replied, "we'll climb down with them on our backs. Good thing you got rope," he added, before turning to Reoseb and Rap. "You two are going to carry the younglings. No complaining, Anna," he turned to her. You climb down next."<p>

The blonde woman almost protested, but Lip was already taking Hana from her back, and everyone was agreeing with Marco. Defeated, she turned to the ladder, and slipped into the dark. During that time, the twins made knots, to provide 'seats' of sorts to the sleepers. Once Reoseb was ready, they tied Hana on his back, making sure he wouldn't just fall down. The teenager nodded, and began his descent. Then Lip and Seyram tied Hane to Rap, and Opachô to Marco. Soon enough, they were a level lower.

It was a surprising sight to be sure. Shamanic tricks allowed them to keep water running in the tunnels, making them useful even by the great heats of the day, and connecting every one of the underground bases of the rebellious organization. Despite it being probably stale, it sure looked delicious to a bunch of thirsty escapists; Rutherford prevented any temptation by loudly allowing everyone two sips from her bottles.

That was when they heard the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked, and as they raised their gazes they met the open mouths of three large firearms.

"Put your weapons on the ground and face the wall. You move, you're dead."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October sixteenth. 07:56.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>X-Laws Headquarters.<strong>

Antonio jumped into the green frontier between the village and that one house, wiggled through the first row of thorns and twigs, then pushed himself to the ground and rolled till he was at the very border of the bushes. Pushing leaves away, he leaned forward until he could look in the small garden… And there she was.

Komeri was sitting on a swing set too small for her. She wasn't really using it either, barely moving as she looked down towards her book. Antonio always saw her reading books. Small books, big books. Most of them, he'd discovered, were supposed to teach her sign language and other, non-vocal ways of communicating. He wondered about that a lot; she communicated with him just fine. In her shy smiles, in her distant gaze, he could read far more than in her words. When she wasn't reading, as far as he knew she was writing, but it did not seem to please her mother that much. So she wrote discreetly, in the white pages of her book, in the margins. One time she'd 'dropped' her book in the bushes for him, and he'd been fascinated by the tales she wrote, about worlds far away, and dragons and goddesses - but Sâti wasn't too pleased with the loss, and Komeri had not done it again.

She saw him, finally. Her shy gaze met his, drew away, came back. Her lips turned into a small smile, a smile that said 'you were away for too long; i was worried. I'm happy you're back'. He grinned softly, apologizing. She put her book on the bench, and watched as he took from his backpack a small bag. In it, he'd put an fruits, a new, discreet notebook for her to write more, another in which he'd put his thoughts and explained himself for the absence and proposed to use it for their exchanges. Oh, and with the help of his spirit, he'd made a small, bird-shaped music instrument. He was only able to get one note from it, but she didn't know that, and when she wasn't aware of the limitations of one thing, she could do amazing things. He'd seen it. Keeping her attention focused, he made a small hole in the ground, hid his plastic bag in there, put some sand back over it. She'd come and gather it later, when her mother didn't look her way. She smiled. 'Thank you, Tony. I'm sure I'll love it.'

But then Sâti saw him. Or rather, she saw that her daughter's attention wasn't focused on her book anymore. The slender woman rose to her feet and walked out on the patio. "Komeri? Komeri, what are you looking at?"

The child didn't answer. She looked away from Antonio, directing her ever-blank gaze to her mother. Shrugging, the teenager grabbed her book and moved to go back inside. "Komeri, you're all red! You should have come to me for more cream, your skin is burned, it'll hurt" worried her mother as she followed, and for a second Antonio thought himself safe. The leaves rustled as he tried to untangle himself from the small bushes grown to 'protect' Sâti's small domain from the rest of the Resistance's Headquarters. But just as he did, the small boy found himself face to face with Dainichi Nyôrai. Sâti's spirit. Frozen in place, the blondie had no choice but to watch as the redhead went back to the patio, then walked over to him.

For a while they simply stared at one another, green eyes against brown eyes. Sâti's gaze had hardened. "I thought I had been clear, child," her voice itself had become rough, and threatening. Antonio knew better than to speak back, he simply lowered his head.

"Well? Haven't you got an excuse?  
>- ... Please don't hold it against my mother, Princess Sâti," was his reply. "I didn't mean to offend you.<br>- Well you didn't mean to, but you did. I will speak to Meene myself. You are dismissed, child. Don't come back. Don't even consider it."

Antonio nodded furiously, feeling suddenly unsure whether she would dare attack him. He didn't take the chance. She hadn't seen his 'gift', and maybe if she did she'd change her mind - so he finished untangling himself from the thorns and pricks of the bush, bowed to a dismissing Sâti, and ran back towards the main houses that hid the Angels' Headquarters. Most were 'inhabited' by mediocre Shamans, nothing that could interest Hao. Nothing that could lead to investigations... Even Sâti had to accept 'handmaidens' that were the official occupants of the little house.

The little boy knew he'd get in trouble, heavy trouble. Sâti would speak to his mother, would grow angry. She would say she didn't want to help at all anymore, that if Meene couldn't keep away from Komeri she would have to heal and revive her wounded herself. She didn't really mind it - had never actually gone through her threats - but that worried Meene to no ends, and Antonio didn't want his mother to be stressed out more, she already was weary enough. But Komeri was so lonely, he'd dared go back, just once, back... And that was the one time he shouldn't have, probably.

Worrying his lip, Antonio jogged back to the main 'house', and went right through the different hidden stairs that kept the massive military complex hidden and safe. He was about to go right to his mother, tell her everything and accept his punition –

When he heard a most peculiar information. Frowning, he ran after the man who'd spoken, asked for precisions. "Well, the HD squad found a group of Shamans, with some strong furyoku signatures, so everyone's in an uproar. Some say they're spies. Others have mentioned kids, too many kids for it to be an attack. They said what, ten kids?"

His friend laughed. "No, that's just silly. I heard two little ones, and five teenagers. That's really weird.  
>- What's weirder is their leader. He's a tall blond man with glasses. Hasn't got any spirit, but I've heard he looks like...<br>- Don't say the name," warned his friend again. "Bad luck. It won't be him, anyways. He's been dead for years. And - hey, where's lil' Antonio gone?"

The child had vanished into thin air.

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October sixteenth. 06:23.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Australia.<strong>

They walked as fast as they could, stumbling and heaving as weariness set in, but forced to hurry by the weapons drawn against their backs. Soldiers Marco did not know had grabbed the sleeping children, and now though he tried he couldn't even see them anymore. He had tried to speak, to explain - but the little group was apparently deaf to prisonners' language. And, as far as he could see, there was no Shaman among them, only Humans. Which at least meant they had to report to HQ soon, and there Marco would be able to ask for Meene.

As he walked, the blondie blinked in and out of consciousness. From time to time he was suddenly aware of Anna's low moaning, Rap's timid weeping. Lip had tried to support her, to comfort her, but the two had been roughly separated by another soldier. Lip had resisted at first, but then Rutherford shouted a word - a single word - and then Lip had stopped, and resumed walking. The tallest Pache had been backhanded for the noise she'd made, but she didn't react.

The tunnels seemed endless. Some were in a better state than others; at times, the smell was so awful it hurt to breathe, at others they could see the feeble light reflect on the shiny pipes they followed. Marco was rusty, he had been away for a long time and he was too dizzy to understand completely where they went; but soon enough he'd caught sight of the marks near the floor. Ah, they'd changed the system. But it wouldn't make sense for them to follow any other way than the one he wanted to use... right?

After what seemed like an eternity, they entered the lower floors of the HQs. He knew that, because he could recognize the large halls they all stopped in. Then a hand roughly grabbed Lip, she and Rap shrieked, weapons were raised. Bawling, the twins were separated, as the elder was taken into an examination room. Marco gritted his teeth, he didn't know how far they'd pushed their precautions, but it wasn't going to be a pleasant experience. Anna was next, Rutherford was next. Reoseb was boiling silently when they took Seyram from her. Then Marco was left alone. He thought he would be following, he expected to be following, and he was actually pushed towards the examination room before a sudden cry stopped the soldiers.

A voice, a very special voice shouted something in French. An exchange was established, the chief of the group was reluctant, he didn't seem to believe what the unseen voice said. But said voice went on, explaining and accusing with his special, crystal-like tessiture, and the soldiers, after a pause, disappeared back in the tunnels.

Marco waited. He wasn't sure all of a sudden, maybe he'd mistaken, maybe it was someone else, it could very well be someone else. Why would they listen to 'him' anyways? He was just...

Then the door opened, and the blondie stopped thinking. How could he not? In front of him, shining like an angel, Antonio had appeared. For a while they didn't move, staring at each other, waiting for each other. Marco couldn't help detailling the child. He'd been so young last time...! Now he was a little bit taller, his glasses looked crooked and too small for his round face. His eyes had grown more serious, not so full of sheer life energy as his five years old-self.  
>Then Antonio drew nearer, and Marco discovered just how much he'd changed. The boy didn't run towards him, or cry or laugh at his sight, he didn't show blind enthusiasm or faith. The child walked cautiously, his Over-Soul activated, his eyes unsure. Then, when he was ten feet or so from his father, he stopped, and stared.<p>

"... Are you... Are you my father?" A child, still. It showed in his voice, scared and frail. Marco exhaled.

"I am, Tony, I...  
>- Wait. I have to check whether it's you, please, don't talk," the child said, as he began to turn around Marco. It made the other sigh, and marvel at the poor boy's education.<p>

"What's my birthday?  
>- Eighth of July," the blondie answered right away, sure of himself. "I was in the North of Australia the day you were born, I learned Meene had gone into labour while helping others finish the tunnels there. I wanted to take a car to come back, couldn't, I ran and walked back as fast as I could. You were two hours old when I arrived -<br>- Okay," Antonio cut him short. "How did I get my glasses?  
>- Porf and I looked for weeks to find you some, once you told me you couldn't see right from afar. We tested your sight best as we could, I guessed you had something like -2, maybe -2,50, but it could as well go down for a while, so we wanted to grab a lot of pairs, but most were smashed, so we could only get a very little pair, that fitted you at the time, and larger ones, for when you'll be older."<p>

He could see the child bite his lip, tighten his fists. And Marco wondered how much he knew already, how much he was saying that the child didn't know. Maybe he should stop babbling so much. But he couldn't keep the words in. He was still rough, still wild from his persistent isolation.

"What's the last thing you told me before going away?" That last question sent him astray, much like an arrow that threw him to the ground. He still remembered that? He could still remember those few words? Those stupid words. Marco's throat tightened, hurt, it felt like a cold snake was strangling him.

"Well?" Antonio's voice let appear a sense of urgency.

"I told you," his voice was soft, "that I had to go, and I had to go quickly, else your mother would worry. I told you I was going to bring back your sister, the sister you don't know yet because Hao took her from us. I also told you that if something happened, you'd have to be brave for your mother, because she was strong and clever, but she would need help carrying it all -"

He was cut short again, by a sudden movement from the boy. Antonio had run to his leg, hugging it tightly. "Papa," he was crying now, bawling and clutching at Marco's shirt, "papa I missed you so much," and Marco could only cradle him and grit his teeth to keep from crying too, "I know, I know, you were so brave Tony, I'm proud, can't tell you how proud, you were far too young for all of this, I'm sorry, you were so brave..."

* * *

><p><strong>Saturday. October sixteenth. 10:12.<br>Ten years after the sacrament of the Shaman King.  
>Byrth – Castle.<strong>

The smell had grown downright awful, he thought with a cough, and wondered if he had left her in here 'too' long already. She was nowhere near the corpse - he had guessed as much - so he left it behind, the echo of his footsteps reverberating on the cold damp walls. As he neared the wall of the cell, he felt his shoe crush... Something.

The flames escaped his palm to bounce on the walls with a furious hiss, lighting a scene the likes of which he never imagined.

Jeanne was lying there on the cold stone ground, asleep, but she was 'not' what surprised him here. All around her pale limbs were the letter pieces of the little game he'd put in here for her, all organized in little golden chains, as if to protect the Shaman curled up on the stone. What...? A closer look revealed names. Some of them - most of them - were obvious, and annoying. Her angels. Her daughter. Traitorous Ren's former pet, Tamamura Tamao. Her spirits. They all circled around her, sometimes stretching far from her actual body, sometimes resting so close she probably would knock them away in her sleep.  
>One or two names he didn't recognize... And then he saw himself. All three letters the European alphabet used to write his name, close to her closed fists. What it meant, Hao could probably guess - though not right now...<p>

Ah well. Even if she did imagine the whole thing as a way to defy him, he'd still win. The lack of the much-needed letter to write her name didn't, probably, appear to outsiders as a terrible punishment, but he knew otherwise. After all, this game had never failed before, all the more as he had Namari's delightful products to back it up. She wanted to make her last stand? So be it. He obviously had not left her in there long enough.

Finishing his little observation round around here, he noticed an oddity. A few letters - no more than five pieces - were sticking out of her little protection... Squinting, he discovered they actually formed her name. Missing the 'J' of course…

Suddenly it all made sense. Her own body, curled into form with the help of her 'protection', was the actual 'J'.

She had won the round. Suddenly angry, he could not stop himself from kicking her wall of gold down, even if it meant she'd know he had come and seen his defeat. Now that he was there, the brunette couldn't help but lower himself to his knees, and touch with his fingertips her forehead.

Her body was ice cold to the touch, but damp. Fevers. Pirika had done her work well, it seemed. Soon the hallucinations would start, if they hadn't already. Hao'd be damned (though he may already have been for some time) if she would continue to play her little games then. Even remembering what was real and wasn't would start to get harsh, until names were but a vague souvenir of hers. At least, if he wasn't feeling merciful and saved her before then - but as of yet he only felt angry, and betrayed, and so he left.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Hao :<strong> *flicks a fireball at Jeanne*

**Jeanne :** *sleeps*


End file.
